Seducing a Queen
by ItachiBlack
Summary: Only desperation could make Jack Overland, infamous crown prince, back home after the spectacular scandal that shocked the ton. Forced to wed in 15 days or lose the throne and be cut off from finance, Jack chooses 1 woman in Arendelle in frantic need of a husband. A lie to an old flame forces Queen Elsa to accept the irresistible prince's offer. She becomes engaged to a sensual man
1. Prince Jack Frost Overland

_**Seducing a Queen**_

 **By: Itachi Black**

 **Chapter 1**

WHEN Jack Overland, the Crown Prince, returned to Bern after a five-year absence, he did not go immediately to Ashire House on Cranston Square, but instead took up a reluctant residence on Grushvine Street with his mother, Duchess Starling. Sir Graham, her second husband and his step-father, was evidently not delighted to see him as the he wore a creasing frown on his aging face, but he was rather _fond_ of his wife so he did not turn his step-son away from the steps of his large house.

Ashire House was where Jack must go sooner rather than later, though. To his own shock, his funds had been cut off abruptly, without warning and without explanation, at just a time when he was preparing to return home at last- _home_ being Willock Castle in Dunstram, the house and estate where he had grown up since birth and that had provided him with a comfortable income since his father's death twenty years ago.

And he was not planning to go there alone. The Barries, who had been fondly in his employ for the last five years in various capacities, were going with him- the position of Head Gardner had fallen vacant and it was Sir Barry to fill the empty post. Most important of all, four-years-old Charles was going there too. The boy was to be known at Willock as the Barries' orphaned grandson. Charles had been wildly thrilled after he was told that he would be living henceforward at the place about which Jack had told him countless exciting stories- Jack's memories of his boyhood there were almost exclusively happy ones.

But then, suddenly, all his plans had gone awry, and he had been forced to part with the child to the Barries in Ludington while he dashed off to Bern as quickly as he could, in the hope of averting the disaster.

His only warning had come in a formal note written in the bold hand of his grandfather's, His Majesty Richard III, secretary, though his grandfather's signature was messily scrawled at the foot of the page, unmistakable despite the fact that it had grown shaky and spidery with age. At the same time the steward at Willock Castle had grown abruptly and ominously silent.

They had all known _where_ to write him, much of the need for secrecy having been lifted with Angelica's death. Jack had felt more than obliged to inform a number of people about that unhappy event.

It made little sense to him that his own grandfather would decide to cut him off just when a measure of respectability had been slowly restored back into his life. It made even less sense when Jack considered the fact as the only grandson and direct descendant of King Richard III, as the Crown Prince, _he_ was the King's heir. By his lineage and birthright, that was clear.

But sense or nonsense, he was cut off, turned loose to the open and absolutely penniless, with no means of supporting those who were dependent upon him- or himself for the matter. Not that he worried unduly about the Barries. Good servants were always in demand by society. Or about himself. Jack was still young and able-bodied. But he _did_ feverishly worry about Charles. How could he not?

Hence this desperate dash to Bern, which was perhaps the last place on earth he wanted to be- and in the middle of the Season, to boot. It had seemed the only course of action open to him. The letter he had immediately written in response to his grandfather's had been ignored, and already precious time had been lost. Thus he had been forced to come and demand for an explanation in person. Or to _ask_ for it, anyway. One did not simply demand anything of the Royal Highness Richard the Third, who had never been known for the sweetness of his temper.

Unfortunately, his own mother did not have any reassurance to offer. She was not even aware that he had been cut off until he told her so.

"I only wonder," she said when he went to her boudoir the morning after his arrival- or an early afternoon to be more precise as he recalled it was an hour before tea time. And mornings did not figure largely in her favourite times of the day- "that he did not cut you off five years ago, my love, if he was going to do it at all. We all _expected_ that he would then. I was even toying with the idea of going to plead with him _not_ to, but it then struck me that by doing so I would quite possibly goad him into cutting you off even sooner than he planned. Perhaps he forgot until recently that you were still drawing on the rents of Willock. Not so harshly, Patricia- you will pull out every hair on my head and whatever will I do then?"

Her usual maid was vigorously brushing all the tangles out of her hair.

Jack thought about his mother's idea, but his grandfather was not renowned for a poor memory either, especially when money was concerned. Good Heavens, no, his grandfather would never do _that_.

"Graham says he will not support your excesses for longer than a week at the outside," his mother added, returning her attention to her son as she arranged the flowing folds of her peignoir in order to show her figure to the best advantage. "He told me so last evening after you arrived. But I would not worry about that, my love. I can wind Graham about my little finger whenever I choose."

"You need not to do it on my account, Mama," Jack assured her with a meek smile. "I will not be staying here for long, only until I have spoken with Grandpapa settled something with him. He cannot intend to leave me quite out in the cold, can he?"

But deep inside, he very much feared that it could indeed happen- that it already had, in fact. And it seemed that his mother agreed with him.

"I would not wager more than ten batzens or so against it," she said, reaching for the rouge pot. "Although he is the king, he is a stubborn, crotchety old man and I am more than delighted that he is no longer my father-in-law and I do not have to pretend to dote upon him. Do hand me that rouge brush, if you please, my love. No, not _that_ one- the other. Patricia, have I not told you repeatedly set my things down so that they are within my reach while you are busy with my hair? You must be that my arms are long enough to reach my ankles. How peculiar _that_ would be."

Jack quickly left the room after handing his mother the correct rouge brush. He could not decide between turning up unannounced at the royal palace on the one hand and writing a request an audience on the other- for that was what a familial visit to his grandfather amounted to. If he went in person, he would undoubtedly have to suffer the ignominy of being turned away by his grandfather's Friday-faced butler- if Fredrick still held the post, that was. He must be nearly ancient as his master. If he wrote, on the other hand, his letter might yellow with age before his grandfather's secretary deigned to give it any attention.

The prince mused. The pot of the kettle. The devil or the deep blue sea. Which was it to be?

And there was a degree of urgency to the situation that threatened to throw Jack into a panic. He had settled the Barries and Charles in a couple of cramped rooms in a small house located far back in Ludington which he paid for one month's rent. There was simply not enough money for another month. Yet one week of this one was gone already.

Even so, he procrastinated instead of making a decision and spent one whole day reacquainting himself with Bern- and Bern with him. Much as one set of instincts warned him to lie low, to avoid being seen if he possibly could, another part of him argued that since he could not avoid the company of his peers for all of the rest of his life without being a poor hermit, he might as well sally forth now with all the nonchalance he could muster.

He went to White's Club, where he still held a membership and where he did not find the doors barred against him. He met a number of former friends and acquaintances there, none of whom dared to give him the cut direct. On the contrary, a number of them hailed him with a jovial familiarity, as if he had been seen by everyone just last year or even last week and had never in his life dashed away from the public eye and from the nation itself under a huge cloud of scandal. And if a few gentlemen chose to ignore him, well, there was nothing unusual about that after what had occurred. One did not hail everyone one met, after all, at White's or anywhere else. Thankfully, nobody made a scene and demanded of his sudden appearance nor demanded that he be removed from the hallowed sanctum of the club.

Jack allowed himself to be borne off to Tattersall's with a group of equestrian enthusiasts to look over the horses, and then on to the competitive races. He even acquired some modest winnings at the latter by the end of the afternoon, though they were far too modest to make any significant alteration to his current financial circumstances. By evening, he went to a card party, where he lost the afternoon's windfall before winning more than half of it back again.

He packaged up the money before going to bed d dispatched it in the next morning to Ludington. By now Charles was bound to have put his heel through a stocking or his knee through his breeches or his little toe through his shiny black shoes or…. Well, the possibilities were endless. Bringing up a child was a decidedly expensive undertaking.

On the second day the ticklish decision of how best to approach his royal grandfather was yanked out his hands. There was a tiny note beside his plate at the breakfast table which had hot, freshly baked scone and a modest amount of eggs and sausages. In all normality, the note was written in the all-too-familiar hand of the secretary. It was a summons to present himself before High Highness Richard III at one o'clock precisely. The old king did not go out much these days, according to Jack's mother, but obviously he did not miss much what went on beyond his ancient doors. The king was keenly aware that his grandson was back in town. Heck, he had even known where to find him!

And it was most definitely a summons rather than a nice invitation- _one o'clock precisely._

Jack dressed with care in a coat of blue superfine that was neat and elegant but not in the first stare of fashion. He had his valet tie his neckcloth in a smart yet simple knot. He also wore a simple fob at his waist and pulled on well-polished Hessian boots over his gray pantaloons, but plain black ones rather than anything more flamboyant. He had no desire to be an eyesore who caught everyone's attention, even if he was the prince. And he certainly did not want to give an impression that he lived extravagantly- which he did not.

"You do understand, Lawrence," he said to his man, "that I will be unable to pay for your service this week and perhaps will not be able to next week either- _or_ the week after. You may wish to look about for another employment and Bern is by far the best place to do it."

Lawrence, who had remained with him through thick and thin for good, solid twelve years- though never before in utter poverty- sniffed in response.

"I understand a great deal, Your Highness," he said, "not having born an imbecile. I will leave when I am good and ready to leave."

Which would not be immediately, Jack gathered- a strong loyalty for which he was silently grateful. He frowned at his image before leaving the room. He did not want to appear obsequious before his grandfather any more than he wished to look expensive, though of course he _was_ desperate. He sighed inwardly, took his hat and cane from Lawrence's waiting hands, and left the room and the house.

Fredrick was evidently still in post as he took Jack's things when he arrived inside the grand castle, scarcely sparing him a glance as he did so, and invited his lordship to follow him. Jack followed, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips at the butler's stiff back. It was probably a wise thing that he not come yesterday, uninvited. He doubted he would have even gone past the guards at the front metallic gate or even see the old butler doing his job, unless he had been prepared to wrestle himself through the heavily guarded palace.

His Majesty, Richard the Third, was in the drawing room, seated in a high-backed chair he had possessed forever, close to the roaring fire despite the fact that it was a warmish spring day. Heavy, rich velvet curtains were half drawn across the windows to block most of the warm sunlight. The air was thick and heavy with the smell of ointment he used for his rheumatism.

Prince Jack made his polite bow before the king. "Your Majesty," he said, "how do you do? I hope I find you well."

His almighty grandfather, who had never been one to indulge in unnecessary chitchat, did not deign to deliver a health report. Neither did he greet his grandson or express an ounce of happiness at seeing him again after so long. Nor did he demand to know why he had returned when he had fled from the scrutiny five years ago under the darkest cloud of scandal and disgrace. He _knew_ why, of course, as his opening words revealed.

"Give me one good reason," he said, his bushy white eyebrows almost meeting over the bridge of his nose, a sharply defined frown line between his brows the only feature that revealed where on ended and the other began, "just _one_ , Overland, why I should continue to fund your excesses and debaucheries."

The aged man held a silver-headed wooden cane in both gnarled hands and thumped it on the floor between his feet to give a fine emphasis to his displeasure.

There was one perfectly good reason, even apart from fact that really there had not been a great many of either excesses or debaucheries. But his grandfather knew nothing about little Charles and never would, if Jack had any say in the secretive matter. Nor would anyone else.

"Because I am your only grandson, sir?" Jack mildly suggested. And lest that not be a sufficient reason, as doubtless it was not, "And because I plan to live respectably for the rest of my life now that Angelica is dead?"

She had been deceased for four months, to be exact. She had taken a winter chill and just faded away- because, in Jack's opinion, she had lost all of her will to live.

To his own misfortune, his grandfather's deepened, if that were possible and he thumped the cane again loudly. " _You_ dare mention _that name_ in _my_ hearing?" he asked rhetorically. "Mrs. Milford was dead to the world five years ago, Jack Overland, when she chose to commit the unspeakable atrocity of running off with you, leaving her lawful husband behind."

Jack remembered the very day as his fuming grandfather pointed his long cane at him. It had happened on Jack's twenty-fifth birthday- and more to the point, on his wedding day. He had abandoned his young bride, virtually at the altar, and run away with her sister-in-law, her brother's wife. Angelica. The whole thing had been one of the most spectacular scandal in the nation. No. Much more like the entire continent as he, the Prince of Switzerland, dared to disgrace the Princess of Greenland- or the country itself- twice… on the same day. Which in turn caused the biggest scandal for the continent to enjoy upon, the biggest disgrace upon his royal family and lineage and his country, and a large looming discontent between his nation and Greenland. His scandal was considered as one of the most spectacular scandals in years, perhaps in history. At least, he assumed it had. He had not been here to experience it in person.

He said nothing since this was hardly the suitable time or the place for a long, heart-felt discussion on the meaning of the word: _atrocity_.

"I ought to have turned you out then without a penny," his grandfather told him. He had not been invited to sit down, Jack noticed. "But I allowed you to continue drawing on the rents and income of Willock Castle so that you would have the wherewithal to stay far away out of my sight- and out of the sight of all decent, respectable people. But now that the woman is gone, unmourned, and you may go to the devil for all I care. However, you promised solemnly on my seventieth birthday that you would marry by your thirtieth and have a son in your nursery before you thirty-first. You have abandoned Miss Milford at the altar five years ago and you have turned thirty six weeks ago."

The prince gulped and paused for moment. _Had_ he promised something so rash? Of course, he would have been a mere puppy at the time. Was _this_ the possible explanation for the sudden cutting off of his funds? Of his livelihood? That his thirtieth birthday had come and gone and he was still a single man? He had been with Angelica until four months ago, for the love of God. But not married to her, of course. Sir Milford had steadfastly refused to divorce her. His grandfather had expected him to find a bride within the past four months, then, and marry her just to honour a foolish promise he recklessly made many years ago- by a boy who knew nothing of life?

"There is still time to produce an heir before my thirty-first birthday," he pointed out- rather asinine thing to say, as his grandfather's action demonstrated. The old man snorted. It was not a pleasant sound.

"Besides," Jack continued, "I believe _you_ must have misremembered the promise I made, sir. I seem to recall promising to wed before _your_ eightieth birthday."

He maintained a confident façade. His grandfather's eightieth birthday… which was _when?_ Next year? Or the year after?

"Which happens to be sixteen days from now," his grandfather said with brows of white thunder again. "Where is your bride, Prince Overland?"

 _Sixteen days?_ Damn it all!

Jack strode across the room to the window in order to delay his answer, even by seconds, and stood looking down on the square, his hands clasped at his back. Could he simply pretend now that is was the _eighty-fifth_ birthday he had named? He could not even remember the promise, for God's sake! And for all he knew, his grandfather might be making all this up just to discomfort himself a valid excuse for cutting off his only grandson from all funds. Willock Castle, though a property belonging to the King of Switzerland, was traditionally granted to the heir as his home and main source of income. Jack, as the future king, had always deemed it as his, by the right of the fact that he was the heir after his own father's death, even though he had not lived there for years. Although he had never taken Angelica there.

"No answer," King Richard III coldly said after a lengthy silence and there was a nasty, notable sneer in his voice. "I produced one son, who died at the age of forty-two when he had no more sense than to engage in a curricle race and try to overtake his opponent on a sharp bend in the road. The fool. And that one son produced one son of his own. _You_."

That did not much sound like a compliment.

"He did, Your Majesty," Jack agreed. What else _was_ there to say?

"Where did _I_ go wrong?" his grandfather asked irritably and rhetorically. "My younger brother produced five lusty sons before producing any of his daughters, and those five sons in turn produced eleven lusty sons of their own, at least two each. And some of _them_ have produced sons."

Jack understood what his grandfather was implying as it was always a male's duty, especially a male with a _royal bloodline_ to secure a future offspring to carry on his title. Otherwise, it would fall prey to the younger siblings of the eldest son. But instead of sympathizing with his grandfather, he said, "And so, Your Highness, there is no danger of the title falling into abeyance anytime soon, is there? There is no urgent hurry for me to bear a son."

It was the _wrong_ thing to say- though he already presumed that there probably _was_ no right thing.

The wooden cane thumped the floor again. "I daresay the title l pass to Nathan in the not-too-distant future," his grandfather spat, "after my time and yours, which will not last even long as your father's if you continue with the low life you have chosen. And _I_ intend to treat him as my future heir. I will grant him Willock Castle on my eightieth birthday."

This news caused Jack's back to immediately stiffen as if someone had delivered him a physical blow. He closed his eyes briefly. This was the final straw. It was bad enough- nothing short of a disaster in fact- that Willock Castle and its rents were being withheld from him. But to even imagine of _Cousin Nathan_ , of all people, benefiting from his loss… Well, it was a viciously low blow. A devastating blow. A fiendish blow.

"Nathan has a wife and two healthy sons," the king remarked, "As well as a beautiful daughter. Now, _there_ , is a man who knows his duty."

 _Yes, indeed._

Both Nathan's father and grandfather were dead. His cousin was the next heir after Jack- after _he_ was dead. That man also had a shrewd head on his shoulders. He had married Caroline Milford six weeks after Jack abandoned her on their wedding day, and he apparently got three children out of her, two of them sons. Nathan had taken all the right steps to ingratiate himself with his great-uncle.

Jack openly frowned down at the empty square beyond the clear windows. Though it was not quite empty. A maid was down on her hands and knees dutifully scrubbing the steps of a much smaller castle on the opposite side.

Did Nathan _know_ that Willock Castle, his home, was to all intents and purposes to be his sixteen days' time?

"If I had written down that promise made on your seventieth birthday, my dear grandfather," Jack started, "and if you had kept it, I believe you would discover now that my promise really was to marry by your eightieth birthday rather than my thirtieth, though they both fall in the same year, of course."

His grandfather snorted again- a sound that conveyed utter contempt.

"And what do you plan to do when you leave here in a few minutes' time, Prince Overland?" he asked. "Grab the first female you meet on the street and drag her off in pursuit of a special license?"

 _Something like that._ When one had been brought up to be a well-to-do gentleman, and a prince to a boot, to administer land, to expect to inherit an illustrious title and fabulous wealth one day, one as not educate or even trained to do any form of gainful employment. Not any of that would give him sufficient income to support dependents, including child, as well as keep his own body and soul together, anyway.

"Not at all." Jack turned to look steadily at his displeased grandfather. "I have a bride picked out, Your Majesty. We are already unofficially betrothed, in fact, even though there had been no public announcement as of yet."

"Indeed?" There was a world of spite and scorn in the one word. His grandfather raised his eyebrows and looked very incredulous- as well as he might. "And who _is_ this lady, pray?"

"She has sworn me to secrecy," Jack replied, "until she is ready for the formal announcement to be made."

"Ha! Convenient indeed!" his grandfather loudly exclaimed, his brows snapping together again and pointing his pointy cane towards him. "It is a barefaced lie, Jack Overland, just like everything in your pathetic, miserable life. There is no such person, no such betrothal, no such impending marriage. Throw yourself out of my sight."

Jack straightened his back and stared back at his grandfather with steely eyes. "But if there _is_?" He asked him, firmly standing his ground though he had the feeling he might as well standing on quicksand. "What if there _is_ such a lady, Your Majesty, and she has agreed to marry me on the assumption that I have the security to offer her, that we will live at Willock Castle and finance our marriage and our family on its rents and income?"

The king looked bemused as he glared at him with no diminution of either anger or scorn.

"If there _is_ such a lady," he said, almost spitting out the words, "and _if_ she is undisputedly an eligible bride for the Prince of Switzerland and future King of Switzerland, and _if_ you present her to me here before the papers announce your betrothal, and _if_ you marry her no later than one day before my eightieth birthday, then Willock Castle will be yours again on that day. And that is a formidable number of _ifs,_ Jack Overland. If you fail in any of them, as I have no doubt you will, then Willock Castle will be given to your cousin my birthday."

The prince politely inclined his head before the great King of Switzerland.

"I believe," his grandfather said, "Nathan and his lady may safely continue packing up their belongings ready for the move."

 _Continue?_ Nathan _did_ know, then?

Jack smirked and said, "They would be well advised not to, Your Majesty."

"I will not invite you to stay for refreshments," his grandfather stiffly said, his cold blue eyes raking over his grandson with great contempt. "You are going to need every hour of the next fifteen days in which to find a bride- a _respectable_ bride- and persuade her to marry you."

Jack made him another bow before saying, "I shall explain the necessity for haste to my betrothed without further delay, then."

Then he heard his grandfather snort one more time as he let himself out of the room and proceed down the stairs to retrieve his hat and cane. This was one devil of a nasty coil.

The prince walked himself out of the stuffy palace and looked at the murky clouds. How the deuce was he to find a bride and marry her all within fifteen days? And a respectable lady of good _ton_ , no less. She would need to have a clean family background and a strong blood lineage to win over his grandfather, who also happened to be the great king of the country. Otherwise, there was no chance that his grandfather would accept the lady into the royal family. Heck, he wanted his only grandson to be booted out for the disgrace he submerged his family with his scandal five years ago.

This would be definitely a challenge as no respectable lady would touch him with a twenty-foot oar- even if he was a prince- not once she knew his infamous story, anyway. And soon enough the t that he was back would spread all over Bern- even if it had not already done so.

Besides all of which he had no wish _whatsoever_ to marry. He had only recently been freed from a lengthy connection that he found tediously tiresome, to say the least- though poor Angelica had _not_ gone unmourned. He wanted to enjoy his newfound freedom alone, at least for a few years. Besides, and far more important, there was a purely practical reason why a wife would be a severe encumbrance. No respectable lady would tolerate the presence of an illegitimate child in her household- or even a strong attachment between her husband and his gardener's presumably legitimate grandson. And how on earth would he ever be able to mask that close attachment?

It was unthinkable.

Furthermore, Charles, however well he had been coached, would not remember all the time to call him _sir_ or _Your Highness_ instead of _Papa._

Damn it all!

But marry he must. He needed Willock Castle. He needed his home and his roots. It was true, of course, that eventually he would inherit all his grandfather's properties, including the nation, and vast fortune, _including_ Willock Castle, which was entailed and could not be given as an outright gift with a ribbon to his cousin Nathan or anyone else for the matter. Even his grandfather could do nothing to prevent any of that happening beyond outliving him. But the trouble was, Jack could not afford to wait for his grandfather's demise, which might be many years in the far future. Besides, he could not under any circumstances wish for the old man's death. Far from it.

But he needed Willock _now._

Then he had a sudden image of his cousin as the crowned king and the proud owner of the estate with Caroline Milford as its lady. And their little children roaring throughout the house and romping in its grand park and gardens instead of Charles. It was a very painful image that stung his heart immensely. Willock was _his home_.

Marriage really was the only option open to him, then. But he truly lacked the time to select a bride with any care to make sure that he had picked someone who would not drive him to distraction within a fortnight- or, to be fair, someone _he_ would not drive to distraction. There was only time to grab whomever he could find. _If_ there was time even for that. He could hardly walk up to the first lady he saw at the first ball he attended and ask her to marry him within a few days' time. _Could he?_ And even _if_ he did and _if_ for some strangely peculiar reason she said yes, he would still have her family to persuade.

Jack groaned. It simply could not be done. Except that failure was not a valid option.

She would have to someone very young and biddable. Someone whose parents would be only too grateful and content to bag the future king as their son-in- law despite of his wicked past. The scandalous reputation be damned to the fiery pits of hell. Some cit's daughter, actually no, she would not be acceptable to his grandfather. Perhaps some impoverished gentleman's daughter, then. Someone plain faced with a plain figure.

Jack felt himself break out in a cold sweat as he stepped out onto the square. Or someone…

Of course, it _was_ spring, was it not? The time of the Season in the hectic city of Bern? The time of the great marriage mart, when ladies came to town with the express purpose find themselves a husband? And notoriety aside, he was a crown prince, even if he wasn't a king yet, it _was_ one of the highest title. Yes, Jack Overland was the heir of the current king and the country itself would become his with other vast fortunes. He just had to find someone to satisfy his grandfather within sixteen days.

His case was not hopeless at all. It was a little desperate, it was true- in actuality, he had fifteen days. But that ought to be sufficient time. It was close to the end of the Season. There l must be a number of girls- and their parents- who were rapidly growing uneasy, even a little desperate, at the absence of a suitor.

As he strode out of the square, Jack found himself feeling grimly optimistic. He would hold his grandfather to his promise and regain Willock Castle. He _had_ to. He would somehow have to fit marriage in with his other plans.

The thought brought out the cold sweat again. There must be entertainments galore to choose among. His mother would get him invitation s to any he wished to attend- _if_ he required an invitation. As he remembered it, most ladies were only too eager to entice enough guests to their homes that they could boast the next day of having hosting a squeeze. They were not going to turn away a titled royalty, even if he _had_ run off with a married lady five years ago- on his wedding day to someone else.

A ball would be his best option. He would most definitely attend the next one- this evening, if there happened to be one. He had fifteen days in which to meet, court, betroth himself to, and marry a fine lady of the _ton_. It was certainly not impossible. It was an interesting challenge, in fact.

He marched off in the direction of Grushvine Street. With any luck his mother would still be home. She would know what events there were to choose among the next few days.

* * *

 **Please, please review! :D Thank you! -Itachi Black**


	2. Queen Elsa Magnus

_**Seducing a Queen**_

 **By: Itachi Black**

 **Chapter 2**

ELSA Magnus reached her age of twenty-five and she was a successful queen for the past four years. She had no personal issue with her age, but it was not a comfortable age to be because she was not married and never had been. She had been betrothed once upon a time- or, to be more accurate, she had had a secret understanding with a man who would have married her immediately, if she had not taken on a responsibility of holding together her only living family member, her only younger sister, Anna. After their father's and mother's deaths until they were all grown up and could take care of themselves. She also had the additional responsibility to sovereign her kingdom once she had been coronated as Queen Elsa.

Prince Hans Westergard, youngest prince of the Southern Isles- one of Norway's closest neighbour from the South, had set his heart upon purchasing a military commission and taking Elsa with him as his wife to follow the drum. She would not give up her duty, though, and he would not give up his dream, so he had gone off to war without her, promising to return for her when she was free.

She had naively trusted his words as they had been very deeply in love and they had been close childhood friends once upon a time, long ago when her predecessors were alive and well.

Before that time came, though, he had married a Spanish lady while he was bravely fighting in Spain with his regiment in the Peninsular Wars against the forces of Napoleon Bonaparte. Elsa had fought quietly for several years henceforth to put back the pieces of her heart and find some new meaning in life. Her small family was not enough, she had discovered, much as she loved her dearest sister. Besides, her little sister no longer needed her. Anna was now happily married to Kristoff despite of the social controversy as they were blissful love matches. Kristoff, who was now twenty-six years old, had inherited a title as the husband of Princess Anna- Archduke of Arendelle and he had grown humbly into his new role as an aristocrat in possession of several properties and a fairly large fortune. He was handsome and very good-natured which made him favourable to other gentleman and popular with the other ladies. It made not only her proud, but also his beautiful wife.

She continued to love Anna and dote upon her new brother-in-law, but it wouldn't be far too off in the future that they would bear children. It would be a wonderful event as she would have either nephews or nieces. Raising Anna, she loved children very much. However, it did weigh down upon her, she was aging and wasn't betrothed while the Princess of Arendelle was married and most likely going to start a big family of her own. As the Queen, she was expected by the nation to give birth to a future prince or princess of Arendelle who would one day take over her throne. She had the responsibility to do so and she wanted to do it as well.

Elsa had counted her years and knew that she was expected to marry and bear children soon, long before time had escaped her. There was also the fact, that if she didn't get married, her sister- who never once considered ruling a country or learned how to govern one, would be asked to take charge because she was a married woman. Then every responsibility would be drawn to innocent, care-free Anna. It was a prospect that filled her with dread- and it was one of the things that had led her to the decision she had made over the winter.

She was going to marry.

There _were_ other reasons. The arrival of her twenty-fifth birthday had been a dreaded milestone in her life. No one could even pretend now that she was a youthful, naïve lady. No, she passed that age the moment she was made queen and her age was soon closing onto the age, _thirty_. Her chances of marrying would grow slimmer with every passing year. So would her chances of being a mother.

She wanted to marry. And she definitely wanted to have children. She had always wanted both, but all her youth had been devoted to the upbringing of her sister and learning how to take position as the Head of the Country, and all her youthful ardor had been expended upon Prince Hans. He had been her first, and only, love.

For the sake of fulfilling her hopes of marriage, she had agreed to partake in a ball held in Switzerland where one of their Royal Family had invited a _ton_ of aristocrats and royal members throughout Europe. It would be rude of her to simply reject their kind invitation and in a sense, it was her duty to participate in diplomatic journeys while the Archduke of Arendelle and Princess of Arendelle monitored the country. They would also send reports on the welfare and any changes- which would not be difficult because Switzerland was located directly above of Norway- her homeland.

Unfortunately, it was too late of her to learn that Prince Hans had also accepted the invitation with his parents. He was back in Bern, of all places, as a widower. As she learned that they were currently at Rindhound Park near Alderton, along with Prince Hans' young daughter. And Queen Westergard, who had never known of the secret understanding between Elsa and her youngest son, had written to Elsa with the news, and gone to say that Hans had asked her about her and her marital status. Queen Westergard had reminded Elsa of how exceedingly fond of each other they had been as children. Perhaps, she had suggested in her letter, Elsa would consider coming to stay at Rindhound Park near Alderton for a while. Perhaps the two former childhood friends would discover deeper feelings for each other now that they were both grown up and free of other obligations. Hans, she added, very much hoped Elsa would accept the extended invitation.

The letter had upset and wounded Elsa. She was very fond of Queen Westergard, who had been her deceased mother's close friend, and she had nothing against the queen for she was unfailingly good-natured. But the lady did have a tendency to embellish the stories she told.

Had Hans _really_ asked about her? And _her marital status?_

Had he _really_ expressed a hope that she would come to Rindhound Park?

Did he _really_ expect to rekindle the feelings they had shared in the past?

Because his wife was now dead?

Because he had a daughter to raise and needed a mother for the girl?

Dear God, she hoped the story was embellished. Hans had hurt and disappointed her enough when he had betrayed her and married someone else. She would think even worse of him if she discovered now that he believed he could come back home and crook a finger her way and she would saunter right back into his arms with boundless joy and gratitude.

Elsa poised herself as she reaffirmed her thoughts. She would marry, she decided- but not Prince Hans Westergard, even if he was prepared to court her again. She had her pride. She would show him that she had not been pining for him and waiting around all these years in the hope that he would come back to her.

The very idea!

She knew whom she _would_ marry.

The eldest son of the Denmark's Royal Family, the Crown Prince Christian, who had proposed marriage to her three times over the past five years. She had refused each time, but the connection between them had never been broken, since it was based upon friendship. Elsa liked him and knew that he liked her. They were comfortable together. Neither of them ever had to search for a topic of conversation. Sometimes they could even be silent together without feeling discomfort. His Royal Highness Christian was a noble, distinguished-looking gentleman and was perhaps eight or nine years older than she and had been married before.

Only one thing had held her back from accepting him. She was not in love with him. She had never felt for him the surge of exhilaration and magic she had once felt for Prince Hans and he did not fulfill any of the secret dreams of romance and passion she had clung to over the years. But she was being very foolish, she had decided over the winter. Romantic love had brought her nothing but heartache. It would be far more sensible and less risky to marry a friend.

She had said no each time the Danish prince had asked. However, on the third occasion- at the end of the Season last year- she had hesitated first and he had seen it. He had taken her hand in his, raised it to his soft lips, and told her he would not press the issue this year and cause her any further distress. They would meet again next year, he had promised with a charming smile, and they would still be friends, he hoped.

He had all but promised to ask her again. By her hesitation, she had all but promised to say yes to him next time. And this time, she _would_ say yes.

She was going to marry before she turned twenty-six. She felt comfortable, happy even, with her decision. She no longer loved Hans Westergard and had not for number of years. But being married to Prince Christian would finally close the book on any lingering attachment to that youthful fancy. She was only sorry she had not accepted him before now. But perhaps it was as well she had not. She had needed to feel quite ready, and now she did and that too made her happy. But it made her even more excited knowing that Prince Christian would be at the event too.

Yes, seeing him would be her main reason to attend the ball. So Queen Elsa arrived to Bern, the central stage of Switzerland, at the end of May rather later in the Season which was a rather unusual time to hold a ball. Nevertheless it _would_ unfailingly attract lots of young noble ladies. As for her case, she had to settle the new trading contract with her nation with Greenland which had kept her busy. And she had heard that another royalty, whom her father had known if she remembered correctly, to be in the foreign city.. It was none other thanHowever, the she had personally met King of Weselton, His Royal Majesty Conner, whom she had personally met as he had personally come to her kingdom to sincerely apologize _after_ he had heard what his Duke had done to sabotageruin their peaceful neighbouring relationships. Although she did not like the _Duke of Weselton_ , she found the King of Weselton to be a wise ruler and a very likable and respectable man. Even Anna had taken a liking to the old king as he was much like a father-figure to the both of them.

Then there was Princess of Weselton, Crown Princess Rachel, who became a good friend of Anna's and much like her sister, she was very talkative and excitable. In a way, Elsa also considered the princess to be like a younger sister as she saw the princess's father to be like their father. She was well informed that Princess Rachel had arrived with her father, her husband Archduke Simon, and their two little children. And Crown Princess Rachel's younger sister, Princess Vanessa and her husband, Duke Edmond had come too. Just the thought of meeting them and their little ones buoyed her spirits. But beneath it all, she felt a glow of happy anticipation in knowing that at last she would begin her own independent life by marring and starting a family.

She could scarcely wait to see the Prince of Denmark, Christian.

She spent the first few days after her arrival visiting the Royal Family of Weselton and going shopping and walking with her friends. The first entertainment they would attend together would be the ball held by Duchess Tindall, one of the Royal Family of Switzerland, and it was already rumoured that it would be a well-attended ball. The thought of it all made her feel like a girl anticipating her first ball. Every hour she changed her mind about what she would wear and how she would have her maid dress her hair.

She wanted to look her _very best_.

The day before the ball she went walking in Spinner Park with her friends once again. It was the fashionable hour of the afternoon and it was a fine day after three days of almost steady drizzle. The carriage paths were packed almost axle to axle with fashionable carriages of various descriptions. Riders on horseback wove their way among them whenever they could find passage. Pedestrians ambled in a dense, slow-moving crowd along the footpaths. No one was is in a particular hurry. This was not the route one would take if one wished to get anywhere fast. One came into the park during the afternoon in order to observe the beau monde and exchange greetings and gossip with friends and acquaintances. One came to see and be seen.

"After all," Vanessa said gaily as they strolled among the throng- with their guards quietly walking in the background, steadily observing, "I did not spend half of Edmond's fortune on this bonnet in order to hurry along a deserted back street."

"And very fetching it is too," Rachel said. "Elsa and I must be content to bask in your reflected glory, Nessie."

They all laughed.

And then Elsa felt her own smile drain away, and with it half the blood in her head. One horseman, a man looking a lot like a military officer was riding with a group of other men, all looking dashing in their scarlet uniforms, had stopped a few yards ahead of them and was looking intently at them, first in astonishment and then in open delight. A gleeful smile lit his face as he swept off his shako and made them a polite bow as a gentleman.

Prince Hans Westergard!

"Elsa!" he exclaimed. "And my fair Princesses of Denmark are here as well! Is it possible?"

Elsa curled her gloved fingers very tightly into her palms at her sides and concentrated hard upon not fainting, while the other ladies exclaimed at the sight of him. He swung down from the saddle and came striding toward them, parting the crowd immediately, one of his rough hands holding the bridle of his brown horse.

Oh, _why_ had she not been warned of this? Why had no one _told_ her?

"Oh my! Prince Hans!" Vanessa cried, and she stepped forward to hug him with all familiarity. She had once been married to Hedley Westergard, one of his older brothers, until that prince had died of consumption.

Princess Rachel inclined her head and curtsied as a polite lady should. "Prince Hans," she said, her voice cool and polite.

His eyes came to rest again on Elsa and he held out both hands for hers. "Elsa," he said, his smile softening. "Oh Elsa, how have you contrived to grow even more beautiful over ththe years? How many years has it been anyway?"

She kept her hands at her sides.

"Nine years," she stoically said, and then wished she had not shown such an exact awareness of how long it had been since that afternoon when they had said good-bye. When she had promised to wait and he had promised to come back. When the very air had throbbed with their passion and grief. When she had thought her heart would surely break.

He was even more handsome now. His reddish hair had darkened considerably by a shade or two and his fair complexion had weathered. He looked broader and more rugged. There was a faint scar just above his right eyebrow that slanted across his forehead to disappear into his hairline. It made him look curiously more attractive.

"Can it possibly be that long?" he asked, returning his arms to his sides. He quickly looked back at his fellow men, who had also stopped though they were being jostled by the ongoing crowds.

"These three lovely ladies were my dear friends from my boyhood," Hans called to them. "I will walk with them for a while if they will permit it."

 _These three lovely ladies_. What foolishly flattering words.

They were given no choice since the prince did not actually ask their permission. Vanessa looked slightly uncomfortable now and Rachel looked almost morose. They knew, of course, about the secret betrothal and Han's cruel betrayal of it, though Elsa had never specifically talked of it.

Elsa's mind was in turmoil as Hans turned to walk and make polite conversation with them. He had heard of Nessie's second marriage, of course, and told her he was delighted by it. She had been a wonderful and a faithful wife to Prince Hedley and deserved to be happy again, he said. His mother had told him about Rachel's marriage to Archduke Simon. He was delighted by that too and hoped to meet the gentleman soon.

But it was impossible to walk for long in a large group of four. Soon the two sisters, Rachel and Vanessa, were detained by another mutual acquaintance, and Elsa found herself walking alone at his side.

She was finding it difficult to breathe- and she was alarmed and greatly annoyed by her own discomposure. This was _Hans Westergard_ , who had married a Spanish lady and fathered a young daughter after promising to return to _her_.

Hans, whom she had loved with her whole heart- and trusted with her love and her future.

"Well, Elsa," he said, his eyes warm with admiration, "you are greatly to be commended. You remained faithful to your promise to your parents. You stayed with your sister, Anna, until she grew up into a fine, married woman and did a very good job raising her by yourself. But you never did marry, did you?"

As if marriage were no longer possible for her.

She did not answer him. Instead she pretended to be distracted by the swelling crowd.

"I am _glad_ you did not marry," he said, lowering his voice. "Why would you not come to Rindhouse Park when I joined my voice to Mama's to invite you there?"

Ah. So he _had_ known that Queen Westergard had written to her. He _had_ endorsed it. She thought the less of him- if there were less to think.

"I had other commitments," she curtly replied.

"And they were too important," he remarked, "to postpone in order to visit an old friend who longed to see you again? But no matter. I have come to town and have met you here instead. I expect to be here for a month or two. I will give you my company whenever I have the time while I am here, Elsa. It will be a pleasure. You are still amazingly lovely."

Would it _not_ be a pleasure if her looks had faded?

 _I will give you my company whenever I had the time…._ What did he mean by that? He was not asking for her company. He was not even offering her his. No, he was _granting_ it to her as if it were some precious gift. As if she might be all alone and lonely without it. As if she were past the age when she might expect any but family members or an old friend to take any notice of her. As if she ought to be grateful that he would find time for her in his busy life.

… _whenever I have the time._ As if he were prepared to fit her in whenever he had nothing better to do.

She was suddenly angry. _Oh_ , how she hated him with an incredible passion. All the pent-up fury of years pulsed through her.

 _You are still amazingly lovely._

How… oh, how _condescending! Arrogant! Pompous!_

"That is remarkably kind of you, Hans," she said, trying to keep the sharpened edge out of her voice, "but it will be quite unnecessary."

"Oh, it will be no trouble," he assured her. "I would never have it said that I would not show all the gallantry that is in my power to a lady who was once such a dear friend of mine. And still is, I hope. And always will be?"

… _a dear friend…_

He looked down at her, his eyebrows raised in inquiry. She was unaccustomed to feeling raw fury. She had no idea how to deal with it, how to remain prudent until she could bring it under control. So she spoke very unwisely.

"You misunderstand, Prince Hans," she said. "It is quite unnecessary to extend a hand of charity my way. My fiancé might not like it."

She heard the words come from her mouth as if someone else was speaking them. And suddenly she wished that someone else _was_. Whatever had she been goaded into saying so prematurely?

"Your _fiancé_?" he slowly asked her, all astonishment. "You are _betrothed_ , Elsa?"

"Yes," she said with fierce satisfaction from his expression, "though no announcement has yet been made."

"But who is the fortunate gentleman?" he asked her. "Would he be someone I know?"

"Almost certainly not," she said, evading his first question.

He had steadily stopped walking. "When will I meet him?" he asked her.

"I do not know," she said coolly.

"At Duchess Tindell's ball tonight?" he asked.

"Perhaps," she said, feeling horribly trapped.

"I was not at all sure I would attend that particular ball," he said. "But now nothing could stop me. I shall come and meet this man, Elsa, and see if he is worthy of you. If he is not, I shall challenge him to a swordfight at dawn and then throw you across my saddle bow and ride off into the sunset with you- or perhaps into the darkness of midnight."

His grinned his crooked smile at her and she was smitten by a sense of familiarity. It was the sort of thing he would have said to her when they were very young- and she would have responded in kind until they were both helpless with unending laughter.

She bit her lip.

If the Crown Prince of Denmark was at the ball tonight- and she had fully counted upon his being there- would Prince Hans demand an introduction and say something about their engagement?

She would positively die of pure embarrassment.

She did not know for certain, of course, that Prince Christian would in fact be at the ball. Indeed, she was not even quite certain he was in town, though he would surely would be since he took seriously his role as a member of the Royal Family of Denmark and it would be soon in the future for him to take position as the King. He was taking his responsibility seriously and preparing for his own coronation. Perhaps she should stay away from the evening's affair herself. But she had been so looking forward to going and seeing the Crown Prince again.

Besides, she reasoned, why should she stay at home and postpone seeing him just because Hans was going to be there- and because her flaring temper had goaded her into telling a lie, or a very premature truth, anyway?

"You must say nothing about my betrothal, Hans," she said. "I ought not to have mentioned it. Even my sister nor the nations fail to know of it as of yet."

"Then I am privileged indeed." He firmly took her right hand in his and turned it in order to set his lips briefly against the pulse of her wrist. "My lips are sealed. Ah, Elsa, it is so very good to see you again. It has been far too long. And I have come too late as well, alas."

"Nine years too late," she said and swallowed awkwardly. She could feel the imprint of his lips like a brand across her wrist.

It _was_ too late. _Far too late_. She could feel only a pained hostility toward him. Surely he could have shown some embarrassment, some shame, some remorse, some sign that he remembered how dishonourably he had treated her. He had not even _written_ to her. Actually, she had found out about his marriage quite by chance.

Vanessa and Rachel had finished their long conversation at last and caught up with them at last. Vanessa kindly asked Hans about his little girl, who was still living at Rindhouse Park with her loving grandparents.

"They are coming to the city," he said, "Since I cot do without my little Maria for too long. They should be here any day."

Rachel gently took Elsa's arm and squeezed it in silent sympathy.

Elsa smiled at her.

Her head was throbbing. If she had known that he was coming to Bern, she would have stayed indoors at the medium-sized estate with her maid, footman, and butler. For goodness sake, she would not even have hesitated. It was too late now, though.

Would the eldest Prince of Denmark propose to her tonight, when it would be her first meeting since last year in Arendelle- _if_ he attended the ball, that was? It seemed highly unlikely that he would declare himself so soon. Surely he would wait until their third or fourth reunion and even then he might be cautious since she had already refused him three times.

She sighed. Oh, everything felt ruined. She would feel somehow manipulative if she encouraged his suit- although she had intended to do so even before this afternoon. She would feel as if she were trying to force him to propose marriage to her simply so that she would not lose face with a former faithless lover.

It was not that way at all!

What did she care for Hans Westergard? She cared for the kindly, courtly man she had decided to marry.

"Oh, my dear Elsa," Rachel said. "How very distressing this must be for you. I wish we had known he was in this park- no, the city- so that we could at least have warned you."

"I am not distressed at all," declared Queen Elsa. "I have been walking quietly at your side because I am having an inner debate with myself about which gown I will wear tonight for my first ball since last year. It is a very serious decision, you must understand. I wish to cut the very best possible dash. The gold, do you think?"

A small played on Crown Princess Rachel's rouge lips before she sighed theatrically.

"Nessie's new bonnet this afternoon and your gold gown tonight," she said. "I shall be quite overshadowed by the splendor of my younger sister and my dear friend."

The ladies looked at each other and laughed once more.

Princess Rachel was the loveliest of them all with her tall, slender figure and golden brown hair. If she wore a sack to the ball tonight, she would turn more than her fair share of appreciative heads, without a shred of doubt.

Hans was now turning to take his leave of them.

Elsa smiled and nodded to him politely and felt a queasiness in her stomach again.

He was going to be at the ball tonight- with the expressed purpose of meeting her betrothed.

Lies were never worth telling, were they? And that was a massive understatement.

* * *

 **Thank you very much for the first batch of reviews, follows, and favourites! It's great to see familiar names everywhere as it makes me very happy and proud. I hope you enjoyed the second chapter and I can't wait to see your valuable feedbacks. :) Cheers and thanks for reading!**


	3. The Atrocious Ball

_**Seducing a Queen**_

 **By: Itachi Black**

 **Chapter 3**

ELSA wore her elegant gold gown to Duchess Tindall's ball. She had bought it with her sister, Anna, at the end of last Season, a foolish extravagance, she had thought at the time, as she had no such opportunity to wear it before returning to her righteous duties as Queen of Arendelle. But she had loved it from the moment she saw it, ready-made and ready to purchase and her exact size- though she had been a little afraid it was too revealing at the bosom. Anna, who had been with her at the time, had assured her that it was not, that since she _had_ a bosom she might as well show it to best advantage. It was an argument that was not necessarily reassuring, but Elsa had bought the gown anyways.

She felt young and attractive in it now. She was not really young, of course. But was she still a little attractive? Modestly said no, but her glass assured her that what beauty she had been blessed with had not altogether faded yet. And she had never lacked for partners at any of the balls she had attended during the past few years.

She had attracted the eldest Danish Prince, had she not? And he was without a doubt one of the most eligible matrimonial catches for any women throughout Europe.

Oh, she _hoped_ he would be at the ball tonight.

And she dearly _hoped_ Prince Hans would change his mind and stay away. She really did not want to see him again.

The underdress of fine ivory-colored silk clung to her every curve and the transparent gold overdress shimmered in the candlelight. It was a high-waisted gown cut daringly low at the bosom, its sleeves short and puffed above her long gold gloves, which matched her dancing slippers.

She almost lost her courage before leaving her dressing room. At her age she should surely be wearing far more sober and decorous gowns. But before she could give serious thought to changing into something lese there was a tap on the door and when her maid opened it, it was none other than His Royal Highness Conner, who poked his bearded head inside.

"Oh, I say, my dear Queen Elsa!" he exclaimed, his eyes moving over her with open appreciation. "You look quite stunning, if I may say so. People will think I am escorting a young princess. I am going to be the envy of every gentleman in the ballroom when I enter it with you on my arm."

"Thank you, sir." She laughed at his absurdity and made him an elaborate curtsy. "And I am going to be the envy of every lady. Perhaps neither of us ought to go and save everyone all the heartache."

The King of Weselton, who was very much like her father, was considered to be old, but he was also an extraordinarily good-looking with his tall, lean frame, unruly chocolate brown curls, short and dark whiskers by his chin, bright greyish green eyes, and open, good-humored face. And tonight, he looked much taller, his curls had been tamed somewhat by an expert barber, and his features had the obvious sign of maturity and a vivid handsomeness. Perhaps, she was biased because the man reminded her of her late father, but she saw the way King Conner turned female heads wherever he went. And it was not just his title and wealth that did it, though she supposed they did not hurt.

"Better not." He pushed the door wider, made her an elegant bow to match her curtsy, grinned at her, and offered his arm. "Are you ready to go? I would not deprive the male world of your lovely company."

"Well, there _is_ that." She smiled at her maid, wrapped her silk shawl about her shoulders, picked up her fan, and took his extended arm.

They arrived at the Tindall Estate half an hour later and had to wait only five minutes before their carriage took its place at the end of the red velvet carpet and King Conner handed Elsa out. She gave her shawl to a footman inside the grand hall and ascended the stairs toward the receiving line and the ballroom on the king's arm. And if they were attracting admiring glances- and they surely were beyond a doubt- she was free to believe that some were intended for her, even though most were undoubtedly for His Majesty Conner.

She felt as excited as if she were attending her first ball with her younger sister- although she wasn't here tonight. Excited- and apprehensive too.

She fanned her glowing cheeks after they had passed along the receiving line. A quick glance about the ballroom revealed the fact that neither Prince Christian nor Prince Hans had arrived yet. It was early of course. But King Conner's two beautiful daughters were both present- as the king had mentioned the night before which led to his generous offer to escorting her to the ball. And there was Crown Princess Rachel and Princess Vanessa at the far side of the ballroom with their respective husbands, Archduke Simon and Duke Edmond.

She and King Conner crossed the room, nodding to acquaintances as they went and stopping a few times to exchange verbal greetings and short conversations.

They both hugged the two princesses and each duke took their turn to address their father-in-law.

"Father," Rachel said sweetly, "I absolutely insist that you dance the Roger de Coverley with me later in the evening. No one dances the steps better, which I am delighted to say, since you were the one who taught them to me when I was thirteen. Besides, you are looking quite gorgeous, and I do have a strict rule that I will dance only with the most handsome gentlemen."

"That is a relief to hear," Simon chuckled, "Since you have already promised to dance every waltz with me, Rachel. But poor Edmond will be afraid to ask to dance with you now lest you say no."

"My knees are already knocking loudly," Edmond said.

They all laughed merrily.

"I must beg you to grant me the opening set, Elsa," Simon said, "Kyle having already solicited Rachel's hand for it."

" _Kyle_ is here?" Elsa asked, looking about eagerly. And there he was some distance away with a group of gentleman. She caught his eye and they both smiled and raised a hand in greeting. "He had not called on me from where I am staying right now. I shall scold him for gross neglect as soon as we come face to face."

Kyle Magnus was her second cousin. He would have inherited the throne as the next ruler of Norway instead of her if his father had been born five minutes prior to her father, the older twin. The fate of her father and Kyle's grandfather had costed Kyle his possible birthright and Margret had often marveled over the fact that he did not appear to hate her- or her sister, though there w _as_ a coolness between the two. He and Anna had opposite personalities since they were children which led to their estrangement by a long-standing quarrel over something Elsa knew nothing about and naturally enough, Elsa had silently taken her younger sister's side. It truly was a pity. Kyle and Anna physically shared a resemblance though which made them look like siblings than cousins, with their lighter Greek-like good looks they had inherited from their fathers. Elsa sighed briefly. Families ought not to quarrel over silly, old trifles.

When the lines began to form for the opening set, Simon- Archduke of Weselton- led Elsa out to join them. She loved visiting other countries, such as Switzerland, and often told herself that she would be perfectly happy if she never had to leave her home for the busy frivolity of fancy balls and old customs- _but_ deep inside, she did enjoy it. And there was something very alluring about this particular country, especially around the Season. It felt so wonderful to be in one of its ballrooms once more, surrounded by the flower of the _ton_ , the jewels sparkling and glittering brightly in the light of the hundreds of candles fixed in two great chandeliers overhead and in dozens of wall scones. The polished wooden floors gleamed beneath her feet and large pots of seasonal flowers and decorative greenery provided a bountiful feast for the eyes and filled the air with their sweet fragrances.

Yet there was still no sigh of the Crown Prince of Denmark. Nor, to her relief, of Prince Hans.

The music began and Queen Elsa curtsied with the line of ladies to a bowing Simon in the line of gentlemen and gave herself up to the enjoyment of the intricate figure of the traditional dance. She always loved the delicate sounds of the violin and the rhythmic thumping of the dancers' feet.

But halfway through the set she was distracted by the sight of a swatch of scarlet at the ballroom doors and saw that it was Hans arriving with two of his men with whom he had been riding yesterday. Her heart fluttered uncomfortable, then swayed, and sank in the direction of her glistening slippers.

There went her peace.

The three of them were causing a noticeable stir among those who were not dancing.

He looked about until his sharp eyes found Elsa and then he smiled so sweetly. She might have pretended that she had not seen him, she supposed, but that would be silly. She smiled politely in return and was very glad she was looking her best as she danced beautifully beneath one of the large chandeliers and her gold gown sparkled delightfully. And then she felt a pang of annoyance at such a vain thought.

 _I will give you my company whenever I have the time…_

There was _still_ no sign of the other prince. He might not even be in this country, of course. And even if he were… if he were to even come later this evening…

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, returning her attention to Simon with a start as she shamefully trod heavily on his shoe. "I am so sorry. Please do forgive me."

She had stumbled awkwardly too and he had to grasp her arm firmly until she had righted herself and picked up the steps of the dance again. It was very humiliating. Her cheeks reddened as a few of the dancers around them looked at her with concern.

"My fault entirely," Simon assured her. "I only hope Rachel did not notice that I almost toppled her best friend. But if you do need someone to plant him a facer or worse, my dearest Elsa, do feel free to call upon me at any given time. It would serve me the greatest pleasure. As expected, I have not been embroiled in any good brawls lately. Marriage does that to a man, alas."

Elsa looked at him, clearly startled. And it was no use pretending that she did not know what he meant by his words. He had obviously seen Prince Hans too, and guessed from his uniform who he was. That meant that Rachel had told him the story. How utterly embarrassing! She was twenty-five years old and a single woman at the age because the only love of her life had abandoned her and married someone else in Spain. And all she had to do was see him again and she went stumbling over the feet of her dancing partner like a drunk.

The pattern of the dance separated them for a while, but Elsa replied as soon as they came together again between the lines to circle each other back to back.

"That all happened _years_ ago," she informed him. "I have quite forgotten it."

Which was a remarkably ridiculous thing to say. _What_ all happened years ago? He might well ask. And how would she even be able to refer to it if she had truly forgotten it? It was illogical. She had only made herself look more abject in Archduke Simon's eyes.

Oh, how she _hated_ this! Where had the years gone? And how had she somehow been poorly left behind? And _where_ was Prince Christian when she most needed him? Whatever would she be able to say to Hans if he talked to her later and asked where her betrothed was? She was just going to have to tell the shameful truth, that was all- that there was no such man, that there was no such betrothal. And she must not even add the face-saving words _not yet, anyway_. She would thereby risk humiliating herself further needlessly if for some reason the Danish price was not in the city this year.

And let her learn lesson from this, she prayed. She would _never_ allow herself to be goaded into telling a blatant lie again- even the smallest of white lies. Lies could only bring one grief.

And then abruptly, just before the set came to an end, there he was at last- the Crown Prince, His Highness Christian, strolling through the grand ballroom doors, looking dearly familiar. He stopped and looked about carefully. He had not seen _her_ yet, Elsa realized as she circled about Simon again and returned to her line. But that did not matter. The important thing was that he was here- and looking very distinguished indeed in his black and white evening clothes. There was a natural stateliness of manner about him which helped him look more royal and important. He must have seen someone else he knew and moved purposefully in that direction.

The set came to an end and she rested her hand on Simon's sleeve.

"Thank you," she said, laughing. "I must be quite out of practice. I am all out of breath. But it was a delightful way to begin the evening."

"It was," he agreed. "For a few minutes I was assailed by the uncomfortable suspicion that all the other gentlemen in the ballroom were watching me. I thought perhaps I had put my dancing shoes on the wrong feet or that my neckcloth was askew. It was an enormous relief to discover that it was, in fact, _you_ they were all watching with their green eyes. You look outstandingly lovely tonight, Queen Elsa, as I am sure your glass informed you before you left home."

Elsa laughed again. "But it is far more satisfying to hear it from a gentleman," she said, "even if he _is_ prone to exaggeration."

Before they reached the place where Vanessa and Edmond were standing with Rachel, Elsa saw that they were about to pass close to the prince whom she had been long waiting for. At the same moment he spotted her and his face lit up with a very warm smile as he stepped away from the group he had just joined.

"Queen Elsa," he said, bowing to her. "What an unexpected pleasure. Archduke Simon?"

"My lord." She curtsied and stayed where she was while Simon continued on his way after returning the friendly greeting.

"You have also come to this event after all, then," Prince Christian said. "I concluded when I did not see you anywhere that perhaps you had decided to remain in Norway this year."

"I was detained with my duties as Queen at Arendelle until just a week ago," she explained slowly. "But here I am at last to enjoy what is left of the Season. Duchess Tindall must be very pleased with the success of tonight's wonderful ball. Her ball is always well attended, is it not?"

"It is a veritable squeeze," he remarked, "and therefore must be deemed a great success. May I compliment you on your appearance? You look lovelier than ever."

"Thank you," she said.

"I hope," he said, "you have a set of dances left to grant me, milady. I arrived rather later than I would have liked, I am afraid."

"I do indeed," she told him with a charming smile.

"Shall we agree to the set after this next one, then?" he suggested.

"Yes, milord." She smiled at him again. "I shall look forward to it."

And perhaps another set later in the evening- a waltz, she hoped. He waltzed well.

It had amazed her now that she had not accepted his offer last year. Even then she had known that she must marry, if she were not to burden her country. And even then she had practically known that she could not possibly do better than marry the Crown Prince of Denmark, whom she liked exceedingly well.

"The next set has not even begun to form yet," he said, glancing beyond her. "There is plenty of time. Do come and meet her."

He took her gently by the elbow and turned her toward the group of people with whom he had been standing.

 _Her?_

"My dear," he called to a pretty auburn-haired lady in rich forest green, "do you have an acquaintance with Queen Elsa of Arendelle, sister of Princess Anna? She had been a dear friend of mine for a number of years. This is Crown Princess Daniella, my affianced bride, Queen Elsa, and her sister, Princess Amber, and …"

Elsa did not hear the rest of the introduction as her face whitened.

… _my affianced bride …_

He was betrothed. To someone else.

For the moment the realization bounced off the outer layer of her consciousness and did not really penetrate- which was perhaps fortunate.

Elsa smiled- brightly and warmly- and held out her hand to Princess Daniella.

"Oh, this _is_ an unexpected pleasure," she said. "I do wish you happy, though I daresay my wishes are unnecessary."

She smiled- very brightly and warmly- at Princess Amber and the other members of the large group and inclined her head affably to them.

"Princess Danielle and I met at the home of mutual friends at Christmas," Prince Christian was explaining. "And she utterly made me the happiest of men just before Easter by accepting my hand. But you must have seen the notice of our engagement in the _Morning Post_ , Queen Elsa."

"I did not," she said, her smile still firmly held in place. "I have been in the heavily occupied until very recently. But I _heard_ of it, of course, and I was delighted for you. Congratulations."

Another lie, she cringed internally. Untruths had come easily to her tongue recently.

"The next set is forming," remarked a lady whose name Elsa had entirely missed and the Danish Prince extended a hand toward Queen Elsa.

With her peripheral vision Elsa became aware of a flash of scarlet off to her right. Without even needing to turn her head to look she knew it was Hans and that he was steadily making his way toward her, perhaps to ask her to dance with him, perhaps to seek an introduction to the eldest of son of the Royal Danish Family, _who was betrothed to someone else._

The ghastly truth rushed at her like a strong gale during a winter storm.

She was not engaged.

She was not about to be engaged.

She was twenty-five years old and horribly, irreparably single and unattached.

And she was going to have to admit it all to Prince Hans, who had earnestly believed that she _needed_ his gallantry since no other man could possibly want to offer her his company. Her stomach clenched tightly with distress and incipient queasiness.

She could not bear to face him just yet. She really could not. She might well cast herself, weeping, into his open arms.

No.

She needed time to compose herself.

She needed to be alone and secluded.

She needed…

She turned blindly in the direction of the ballroom doors and the relative privacy of the ladies' withdrawing room was beyond. She did not even take the time to skirt the perimeter of the room but hurried across it, thankful that enough dancers had gathered there to prevent her from looking too conspicuous.

She felt horribly conspicuous anyway. She remembered to smile sweetly.

As she approached the doors, she glanced back over her shoulders to see if Hans was coming after her. She was in a ridiculous panic. Even _she_ knew it was fully ridiculous, but the trouble with panic was that it was beyond one's power and effort to control.

She turned her head to face the front again, but she did so too late to stop herself from plowing into a gentleman who was standing before the wooden doors, blocking the path.

She felt for a moment as if all the breath had been forcibly knocked from her body. And then she felt a horrible embarrassment to pile onto her confusion and panic. She was pressed against a very solid male body from shoulders to knees and she was being held in place strongly by two hands that gripped her upper arms like a vise.

"I am so sorry," she hurried, tipping back her head and pushing her hands against his broad chest in a vain effort to put some distance between them so that she could step around him and hurry on her way.

Instead she found herself gazing up into very steely blue eyes, which reminded her of the deepest end of the darkest ocean during a storm, set in a harsh, narrow, angular, dark-hued face- an almost ugly face framed by hair that could be deemed as an extremely light hue of blond, although it almost look white. A very unusual color. All of which scared her in a way.

"Excuse me," she said when his grip on her arms did not loosen.

"Why?" he asked her coldly, his eyes roaming boldly over her face. "What is your hurry? Why not stay and dance with me? And then marry me and live happily ever after with me?"

Elsa was simply startled out of her panic.

His breath smelled of hard liquor.

* * *

There had been no ball the evening after Jack's interview with his grandfather. Not one single one. Bern positively teemed with lavish entertainments every day and night of the Season, but for that one infernal evening there had been nothing to choose among except a soiree that was being hosted by a lady who was a notable bluestocking and that would doubtless be attended by numerous politicians and young scholars and old poets and intelligent ladies, and a concert with a program clearly designed for the musically discerning and not for anyone who happened to be shopping in a hurry at the marriage mart.

Jack had not attended either but had been forced to waste one of his precious fifteen days. He had gone to Jeremey's Boxing Salon yesterday afternoon when he might, he thought too late, have joined the afternoon promenade in Spinner Park to look over the crop of prospective brides. And today, when he _had_ thought of going there, rain had been spitting intermittently from low gray clouds and all he met were a few hardy fellow riders- all male- and one closed carriage filled with dowagers.

He had been reminded of those dreams in which one tried to run profusely but found it impossible to move even as fast as a crawl.

But tonight there was Duchess Tindall's popular ball to attend and it was most definitely a promising event. According to his mother, who planned to be there, it was always one of the grand squeezes of the Season since the Duchess was renowned for her lavish suppers. Everyone who was anyone would be there, including, Jack fervently hoped, armies of young, marriageable hopefuls who were running out of time in the Season to find good husbands.

It was enough to make him feel positively ill and weak.

He had not told his mother about his grandfather's ultimatum though he might have to enlist her help if he found himself unable to come up with a suitable bride on his own within the next few days. His mother knew everybody. She would be sure to know which girls- and more important, which parents- were desperate enough to take a man of such notorious reputation in such indecent haste.

He arrived late. It was perhaps not a wise thing to do when time was of the very essence, but earlier in the evening he had acquired cold feet- the almost inevitable consequence of having been forced to wait more than twenty-four hours to begin implementing his search- and had stayed at White's Club long after he had finished his dinner and his few companions had left to go about their evening business, some of them to attend this very ball. He might have come with them and hoped to enter the ballroom almost unnoticed. Instead he had stayed to fortify himself with another glass of port- only to discover that fortification had demanded several more glasses of port than just one.

He did not have a formal invitation to the ball, but he did not fear being turned away- not after a few glasses of port, anyway. He was, after all, the Crown Prince of Switzerland. And if anyone remembered the rather spectacular scandal of five years ago, as everyone surely would- well, they would undoubtedly be avid with gnawing curiosity to discover what had ever become of him in the intervening years and how he would behave now that he was back in the public affairs.

Jack wondered suddenly if any of the Milfords were present in the large city this year and fervently hoped not. It would not be a comfortable thing to come face to face with Randolph Milford in particular- the man he had boldly cuckolded.

And he was _not_ turned away from the ball. But of course he had arrived late enough that there was no longer any sign of a receiving line or even of a majordomo to announce him. He stepped into the ballroom, having left his hat and cloak downstairs in the care of a footman and looked about him.

He felt very much on display and half expected that after all there would be a rush of outraged persons, led by ladies, to expel him into out darkness. It did not happen, though undoubtedly he _was_ attracting some attention. He could hear a slightly heightened buzz of sound off to his right.

He ignored it and walked on forth in a dignified pace.

It was indeed a squeeze of a ball. If everyone decided to dance, they would have to push out the walls. And if everyone decided to rush him… Well, he would be squashed flat as a pancake in a matter of seconds.

He had arrived between sets, but couples were gathering on the floor for the next one. Good! He would be able to view the matrimonial prospects at his peaceful leisure provided that buzz of interest to his right did not develop into a swell of pure outrage to fill the spacious ballroom.

He could see Marquess Kyle Magnus, whom he met during his diplomatic journey to Norway, and a few other male acquaintances some distance away, but made no move to join them. He would become far too involved in conversation if he did and perhaps allow himself to be borne off to the card room. He would be willing enough, by God. He could feel his mood turn bleaker and blacker with every passing second. This ought not to be happening.

He had _not_ planned to go wife hunting yet- or perhaps ever. He had _certainly_ not planned to come to Bern any year soon either.

How the devil was he supposed to begin any courtship?

There were pretty women and plain ones too, young ones and old ones, animated ones and listless ones- that last group being the wallflowers, he suspected. Most of them, indeed, were still standing on the sidelines, nary a partner in sight though the dancing was about to resume. He should probably concentrate his attention upon them.

It was one devil of a way to choose a bride! Pick the most bored-looking wallflower and offer to brighten her life. Offer her marriage with a man who had abandoned his last bride almost literally at the altar in order to run off with her married sister-in-law and live in sin with her for almost five years. A man who had no inkling of a desire or wish to marry but was being forced into it by the threat of penury. A man who no longer believed in romantic love and had never practiced fidelity. A man with an illegitimate child he refused to hide away in some dark corner of the country.

He had fixed his narrowed gaze upon a mousy-haired young girl who, if his eyes did not deceive him from this distance, had a flat chest and a bad case of facial spots, and who was beginning to notice his scrutiny and look decidedly frightened by it, when he was distracted.

A sudden missile almost bowled him off his feet- something hurled his way in order to expel him after all, perhaps?

He clamped his hands about the two arms of the missile in order to save himself from landing flat on his back- what a spectacular re-entry into society _that_ would be! And soon realized that it was a human missile.

A female human, to be exact.

 _Very_ female.

She was all generously sized breasts and delicious curves and subtly fragrant light hair. And when she tipped back her head to apologize, she revealed a face that did the body full justice, by thunder. She had wide eyes and a porcelain complexion and features that had been arranged beautifully on her face for maximum effect. She was loveliness personified from head to toe with no faults for the world to point at.

He held her against him longer than was necessary- and far longer than was wise in such a public setting, when his sudden appearance was already provoking large amounts of attention. But she would surely fall over if he released her too soon, he reasoned.

She had long legs- he could feel them against his own.

She was literally and poetically breath-taking with her beauty and voluptuous- and pressed by some happy chance to his body. Could any warm blooded male ask for more? Privacy and nakedness and a soft bed, perhaps?

The only negative thing that could be said about her- on the spur of the moment anyway- was that she was not young. She was probably only a few years younger his own age, give or take a few years for a fair estimate. That was not at all young for a woman. She was undoubtedly married, then. She must have been snaffled up off the marriage mart five to ten years ago. She also probably had half a dozen children. A pity that. But fate was ever a joker, he mused. He must not expect his search to be _this_ easily or happily concluded.

There was no ring on the left hand that was splayed over his chest, though, he noticed.

All of which thoughts and observations flashed through his head in a matter of moments.

"Excuse me," she said, flushing and looking even more beautiful, if that were possible.

She was pushing at his chest. Trying to get away. The prince smirked as he thought _there is no harm in being hopeful, was there?_

"Why?" he demanded of her. "What is your hurry? Why not stay and dance with me? And then marry me and live happily ever after with me?"

He felt her body grow still and watched the arrested look on her angelic face. Then her eyebrows arched above her eyes- and even _they_ were lovely. It was no wonder some poets wrote poems to their ladies' eyebrows.

"Does it _have_ to be in that order?" she boldly asked him.

Ah. An intriguing answer indeed. An answer in the form of a question.

Jack pursed his pink lips. She had bowled him over after all- and rendered him temporarily speechless for the second time of the wondrous night at a ball he did not want to attend.

* * *

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	4. A New Scandal

_**Seducing a Queen**_

 **By: Itachi Black**

 **Chapter 4**

ELSA almost laughed, though more with hysteria than with amusement.

 _What_ on earth had he said?

And _what_ had she answered?

Gracious heaven, he was a complete stranger, though familiar, and not a very reputable-looking one at that. Was anyone observing them? Whatever would they _think_?

His rough hands had loosened their hold on her arms though they still remained there. She could have broken away quite easily at this point and hurried on her way out of the ballroom immediately. Instead she looked up at him and waited to see what he would say next. It was presumable to state that she was intrigued by the outrageous man.

He had pursed his lips and his very cold eyes- surely they could not be literally frozen?- gazed steadily and boldly back at her.

He also appeared to be quite alone. Some instinct told Queen Elsa that he was not the sort of man whom she ought to be talking, despite of his formal and elegant garments, without a proper Introduction. But here she was standing so very close to him, her hands splayed on his broad chest, his clasping the bare flesh of her upper arms between her sleeves and her gloves. And they had been standing thus for more seconds than any ordinary collision ought to have occasioned. They ought to have sprung apart quickly, both modestly embarrassed and both apologizing profusely.

Oh goodness.

She lightly pushed on his chest again and when he still did not release his hold on her arms, she dropped her own to her sides. Her back prickled. Half the _ton_ was somewhere behind her. Including her close friends. And including Prince Hans of the Southern Isles and Prince Christian of Denmark. All staring, presumably.

"I am afraid it does," the stranger said at last in an answer to her question. "If I dash off immediately in pursuit of a special license, you see, and then someone to perform the sacred ceremony, this particular set will surely be over by the time I return. And someone else will have discovered you and eloped to Scotland with you and left me clutching a useless piece of document. If we are to both dance and marry, it must be done in that _particular_ order, I am afraid- much as I am flattered by your eagerness to proceed to the nuptials without further delay."

How very outrageous he was indeed, whoever he might be. Elsa ought not to have laughed- she ought to have been offended by the levity of his words, absurd and quick-witted though they were.

But she laughed.

 _He_ did not. He gazed intently at her and dropped his hands to his sides at last.

"Dance with me now," he said, "and tomorrow morning I will procure that special license. It is a promise that I shall keep."

This was a strange joke- a bizarre one. Yet he showed no sign of finding it amusing. Elsa found herself shivering slightly despite the fact that the smile lingered on her face.

She really ought to run from him as fast as her feet would carry her and keep the whole width and length of the ballroom between them for the rest of the evening. Her own words had been very indiscreet to her own surprise. _Does it have to be in that order?_ Had she really spoken them aloud? But his answer, alas, proved that she had.

Who on good _earth_ was he? She had never set eyes on him before tonight. She was certain of that.

And she did not run.

"Thank you, sir," she said instead. "I _will_ dance with you."

It would be better to do that than run away simply because the Crown Prince of Denmark, whose hand she had refused three separate times, had chosen to betroth himself to someone else. And because Prince Hans was at the ball and she had foolishly told him she was betrothed.

The man inclined his head and offered his arm to lead her out to join the other dancers. It surprised Elsa to discover that the dancing had still not begun. That collision and the unexpected exchange of words that had followed it must all have happened within a minute or two at the longest.

The arm beneath her hand was very sold indeed, she noticed. She also noticed as she walked beside Him that her initial impression of his physique had not been mistaken. His black evening coat molded a powerful frame like a second skin. His long and sturdy legs looked equally well muscled. He was taller than she by several inches, though she was a tall woman. And then there was that dark-hued, harsh, almost ugly face.

It struck her that he might be a frightening adversary.

"It occurs to me," he remarked, "that if I am to be granted a special license tomorrow, I ought to know the name of my future bride. And her place of residence. It would be mildly irritating to pry myself away from my bed at some ungodly hour of the morning only to have my application denied on account of my inability to name my bride or explain where she lives."

Oh, the absurd man. He was going to continue with the ridiculous joke, though his grim face had not relaxed into even the suggestion of a smile. But she would amuse herself a little bit longer by indulging his silliness.

"I suppose it would," she replied.

Then the orchestra struck up with a lively country dance tune at that moment and after a short spell of dancing together they moved away from each other in order to perform a series of steps with the couple adjacent to them. When they came together, it was with the same couple and there was no chance for private conversation, absurd or otherwise.

This was really very improper, Elsa thought. As he had just reminded her, he did not know her and she did not know him. Yet they were dancing with each other. How on earth would she explain the lapse to Vanessa and Rachel? Or to His Majesty King Conner? She had always been a stickler for the social niceties.

But tonight she discovered that she did not much care. She was almost enjoying herself. Prince Christian's sudden announcement- and his assumption that she already knew- had in fact seriously discomposed her. So had the appearance of Hans. Yet here she was dancing gracefully and smiling anyway. And there was something definitely amusing about the joke the stranger had set in motion.

How many ladies- rich or poor- could boast of meeting a presumable wealthy man who was a total stranger and being asked to dance with him and marry him- all in one breath?

Her smile widened. It was most definitely entertaining.

" _Might_ I be permitted," the stranger asked her when they were dancing exclusively with each other again, "to know the name of my prospective bride?"

She was tempted to withhold it. But that would be pointless. He could quite easily discover it for himself after they had finished the dance, considering she was fairly well-known as a queen.

"I am Queen Elsa Magnus of Norway," she informed him, "sister of the Princess of Arendelle."

She had expected him to be surprised or some sort reaction, however, the man simply said, "Ah, excellent. It is important to marry someone of impeccable lineage- important to one's family anyway."

"Absolutely, sir," she agreed. "And you are…?"

But she had to wait for another couple of minutes while the pattern of the dance drew other couples within earshot again.

"Jack Frost Overland, Crown Prince of Switzerland," he said without preamble when they were alone once more. "The title, I must warn you before you get too excited about marrying it, is a courtesy one and currently have of no value whatsoever except that it sounds good to the ears- and except that it is an indicator that a more real and illustrious title is to follow if and when the incumbent should predecease me. The current king, King Richard the Third, my aging grandfather, may well not do so even though he is eighty- or will be in two weeks' time- and fifty years my senior."

He had offered a great deal more than she had asked for. But it was a huge surprise to learn of his secret identity and another surprise she had not met him before. And yet… _Crown Prince of Switzerland_. Something tugged at the corners of her memory, but she could not pull it into focus. Although she had the impression that it was something not too pleasant. Something scandalous.

"And where," he asked, "may I come to claim you tomorrow, dear Queen Elsa, marriage license in hand?"

She hesitated again. But it would again take him only a moment after he had left her to discover it for himself.

"At Weselton House on Berkeley Square," she said.

But the joke had continued long enough. As soon as the set was at an end, she decided, she must put as much distance between herself and _this_ prince as she possibly could. She did not want to or had the intention of encouraging him to continue to be as bold and familiar with her as he had been thus far.

She must make some discreet inquiries about him. There was _something_ there in her memory.

Hans, she could see¸ was conversing with Vanessa and Edmond. It still seemed unreal, seeing him like this after so many unhappy years. She had not expected ever to see him again after his sudden marriage. What did she expect? She had expected him, she supposed, to settle in Spain permanently with his wife after the wars were over. Or back in his native land.

"Queen Elsa," Prince Jack asked her, bringing her attention back to him, "why were you fleeing the ballroom in panic earlier?"

It was a thoroughly impertinent question. Did he know nothing of good manners, despite of his royal status?

"I was not _fleeing_ ," she argued back. "And I was not in a panic."

"Two bouncers in a single sentence," he stated.

She looked at him with all the hauteur she could muster. "You are very impertinent, my lord," she remarked.

"Oh, always," he fully agreed. "Why waste time on tedious courtesies? Was he worth the panic?"

She opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort. But then she closed it and simply shook her head instead.

"Was that a sign of a firm _no_ ," he asked her, "Or a _you-are-impossible_ gesture?"

"The latter," she said curtly before they were separated again.

A short while later the orchestra paused before beginning another tune in the same set. But the Prince of Switzerland appeared to have had enough. He took Elsa's hand from her side without a by-your-leave, set it on his sleeve, and led her off the floor and into a small, semicircular alcove close to the doors, where only the light melodic music could be heard and there rested a comfortable-looking sofa was temporarily unoccupied.

"It is impossible," he said as Elsa seated herself hesitantly and he took the vacant seat beside her, "to hold a sustained conversation while dancing. Dancing has to be the most ridiculous and pointless social activity ever invented."

"It is something I particularly enjoy," she said. "And one is not _expected_ to hold a lengthy conversation while dancing. There is a time and place for that."

"What did he do," he demanded her, "to throw you into such a panic?"

"I have not admitted," she responded, "that there even _is_ such any gentleman or that there _was_ any such incident." She picked up her silk fan from her wrist, flicked it open, and plied it to her overheated face.

He watched her movements. He was seated slightly sideways, his elbow resting on top of the sofa not far from her shoulder. She could feel the heat from his arm against the side of her neck.

"Of course there were both," he interjected. "If the cause had been a burst seam, it would have revealed itself rather shockingly when you collided with me."

She ought to just get up from the spot and walk away, Elsa thought. There was nothing to stop her, was there? But his persistent questions had revived the unwanted memory of her misery and panic, and some of the former returned. She had really had no chance to digest the sad fact that she would never be married to the Crown Prince of Denmark. And Crown Prince Jack was a stranger. Sometimes it was much easier to talk to strangers than to loved ones. She doubted she would ever pour out her heart even to her sister, Anna or her husband, Kristoff back at home. It had never been her way to burden them with her childlike woes. Instead, she had always bottled up her emotions deep inside- at least all the negative ones like her father had once taught her as a young child. She had always been the eldest sister, the substitute parent. She had always had to be the strong one, the one upon whom Anna could always depend.

Talking to strangers was definitely dangerous. But there was something quite unreal and bizarre, almost like a fairy-tale story, about this whole evening so far. Elsa's normal caution and reticence had deserted her.

"I told a gentleman of my acquaintance yesterday," she confessed, "that I was betrothed. I expected that it would be true by tonight. But this very evening I have discovered that the gentleman concerned is betrothed to someone else, and the first gentleman is here and will be expecting to meet my fiancé. Oh, dear, this all makes no sense whatsoever, does it?"

"Strangely it does," he said. "The gentleman to whom you made this claim once hurt you?"

She looked at him, rather startled by his assumption. How could he possibly have discerned that?

"What gives you that idea?" she asked him out of curiosity.

His clear blue eyes bored into hers as if they could lay bare all of her hidden secrets.

"Why else would you be rash enough to tell him such a thing so prematurely?" he replied with a small shrug. "It was a mere boast. Why boast to him if you did not wish to thumb your nose at him? And why wish to thumb your pretty nose at him if he had not wounded you at some time in the past? So tell me, what did he do to you?"

"He went away to war," she said, "while I stayed at home to raise my younger sister after our parents had died. We had an understanding before he left, though, and that sustained me through years that were often difficult, even bleak. And then word came through a letter to his mother that he had married in Spain."

"Ah," he said calmly. "This paragon of devotion is one of the scarlet-clad officers who are dazzling all the ladies, is he?"

"Yes and no. He also happens to be a prince," she said.

"And the man to whom you expected to be betrothed?" he then asked. "He also has behaved toward you in a dastardly manner?"

"I cannot in all conscience accuse him of that," she spoke honestly. "He offered for me three times over the past five years. I refused all three times, though we were still close friends and told each other at the end of last Season in my kingdom that we looked forward to meeting again this year. I had been occupied with the duties for my country and when I had arrived here recently, I had not saw an announcement of his engagement nor heard of it. And I came here this evening, expecting… Well, never mind."

She was beginning to feel very uneasy, not to mention very foolish. What she had intended to be a very vague explanation of her earlier panic had turned into a rather detailed and humiliating confession.

"You have waited far too long in both instances," he said. "With both gentleman. Let it be a wise lesson to you."

She fanned her flaming cheeks more vigorously. She deserved that harsh and unsympathetic judgment. Though it was very typical of a man to take the part of other men. It must be _her_ fault that she had lost both chances with Prince Hans and Prince Christian.

But he was perfectly right to think so, of course. She need not too feel so indignant or so abject. She had not been abandoned by either man. She had made them wait too long for her reply.

It was humbling and new to see oneself through the eyes of a man.

"And does the dashing, faithless prince know the identity of the gentleman to whom you expected to be betrothed this evening?" Prince Jack coolly asked.

"Oh, no," she quickly replied. "I was not _that_ indiscreet. Thank heaven."

One must be grateful for small mercies, she thought. How truly dreadful it would have been if…

"Then there is a very simple solution to all of your woes," the prince said. "You may introduce me to your other prince as your betrothed and at the same time demonstrate to the other man that you were not waiting for him to offer for you yet again."

Oh, he really was quite outrageous. Yet there was still no glimmer of humour in his eyes, as she saw when she turned her head sharply to look into them.

"And what would you do tomorrow," she asked, "when you discover that my friends, my sister, my brother-in-law, and a king, who is like a father to me, on your doorstep, demanding to know your true intentions? And what would _I_ do when I come face-to-face with Hans tomorrow or the day after? Tell him that I had a sudden change of heart?"

He shrugged.

"I would inform your fierce relatives and friends and that king of yours that my intentions are entirely honorable," he said. "And you could continue to thumb your nose at the faithless prince."

"I do thank you for your gallant offer, sir," she said, laughing and wondering how he would react if she chose to take him seriously, poor man. "And I thank you for your company this set. It had been wondrous and amusing. But I must go now and-"

She was given no opportunity to finish. The hand belonging to the arm that was propped against the back of the sofa moved to rest firmly on her shoulder and his face dipped a little closer to hers.

"One of the scarlet uniforms is approaching," he whispered, "draped about the person of a large red-haired man. Doubtless your erstwhile lover."

She dared not to turn her head to look. She closed her eyes briefly instead.

"You had better do as I have suggested," Prince Jack remarked, "and present me as your betrothed. It will be far more satisfying for you than admitting the abject truth would be."

"But you are not-" she protested.

"I can be," he said, interrupting her, "if you wish and if you are prepared to marry me within the next fourteen days. But we can easily discuss the details at our leisure later."

Was he truly _serious_? It was not possible. This was all quite astonishing. But there was no chance to question him. There was no such time to think or consider. There was no time at all. His eyes had moved beyond her and he was raising his eyebrows and looking like a man who was none too delighted at having his tête-à-tête disrupted. It was a haughty, cold look.

Elsa turned her head.

"Hans," she said.

"Elsa." He made her a polite bow. "I trust I am not interrupting anything important?"

"Not at all." Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest that it deafened her despite the loudness of the music and of the voices now raised to converse above it. "My lord, do you have an acquaintance with Prince Hans of the Southern Isles? May I present His Highness Crown Prince Jack Overland of this beautiful country we are in, Hans?"

Prince Hans bowed again, more stiffly this time, and Prince Jack regarded him with a raised eyebrows.

"And this is the same Prince Hans," he said, "with whom you once had an acquaintance, Ellie?"

 _Ellie?_

Oh, goodness! Someone help her! Elsa's vision was beginning to darken about the edges. At the other extreme, she felt a quite inappropriate urge to burst into ceaseless laughter. She must be on the verge of hysteria again.

"We were childhood friends," she calmly replied. "We grew up together as our parents were good friends."

"Ah, yes," Prince Jack said. "That was it. I knew I heard that name before. A pleasure, Prince Hans. I can only hope you have not come to solicit Ellie's hand for the next dance, though. I am not finished with that hand myself yet, and the present set, you will observe, is not quite over."

"Elsa?" Hans called, virtually ignoring the prince apart from the fact that his nostrils flared slightly. "Are you ready to be escorted back to your awaiting _friends_? I shall certainly claim a dance later in the evening if I may."

There were certain moments upon which the whole of the future course of one's life might turn. And almost inevitably they popped out at one without any warning at all, leaving one with no time to consider or engage in a reasoned debate with oneself. One had to make a split-second decision and much depended upon it. Perhaps everything.

This was such a moment and Elsa knew it with agonized clarity as she closed her fan. She could get to her feet now and go with Hans, or she could stay and tell him the truth, or she could stay and do what the fair prince had suggested- and deal with the consequences tomorrow.

Elsa was _never_ rash, even when forced to act upon the spur of the moment. But this was a different type of moment altogether.

"Thank you, Hans," she said. "I will be delighted to dance with you later. For now, though, I will remain with Prince Jack. Prince Christian will be along soon, I daresay, to claim me for the next set." And then a deep breath was taken and the rest of the decision was made. "Prince Jack Overland is my betrothed."

The ballroom suddenly seemed unnaturally hot and airless. But she doubted she had enough control over her hands to open her favourite fan again.

Prince Hans, clearly stunned, looked from her to the Crown Prince of Switzerland, poker-faced, and it seemed to Elsa that he knew the man or at least knew _of_ him, and did not like what he knew. He had offered to escort her back to her _friends_ , with great emphasis upon the one word.

"Your _betrothed_ , Elsa?" he repeated. "But Vanessa and Duke Edmond do not know anything of it."

He had just been talking with them. They had all seen her with the Crown Prince Jack of Switzerland. Perhaps Hans had volunteered to come and wrest her away from him and escort her to safety. What did they all know of this prince that she did not? It must be something quite unsavory, she guessed.

"I told you yesterday, Hans, that the betrothal has not yet been made public," she reminded him.

"It will be very soon, however," Prince Jack said, squeezing her shoulder gently. "We have decided to wed within the next fortnight. When one has discovered the partner with whom one wishes to spend the rest of one's life why wait, after all? Many a prospective match comes to grief because the couple- or one member of it- waits too long."

It dawned to Elsa that he really might be serious. But how could he _possibly_ be? They had just met. He could _surely_ not intend to marry her within two weeks.

She did not even know who Prince Jack Frost Overland _was_. Apart from being the heir to King Richard the Third, that was.

She felt one of the prince's knuckles brushing against her rosy cheek and turned her hand to look at him. His eyes, she could see now, were gorgeously bright and clear like polished sapphires. Was it the color, changing from brightest of blue to the darkest hue of murky blue like magic, which gave the extraordinary impression that he could take a look inside her and see her very soul?

"I must offer my felicitations, then" Hans said, executing another bow. "I will seek you out for a dance later, Elsa."

"I shall look forward to it," she said.

He quickly turned without another glance at the prince and strode away with stiff military bearing.

"He is certainly not pleased," the prince commented. "Is the Spanish wife still alive?"

"No," Elsa said. "He is a widower."

"He was hoping, then," he said, "to rekindle an old flame with you. You have had a fortunate escape, however. He looks very handsome in his uniform, I daresay, but he has a weak chin."

"He does not!" Elsa argued.

"He does," Jack insisted. "If you are still in love with him, Ellie, you had better be careful not to allow yourself to be lured back to a man like him. You would be wasting your sensibilities upon a weak man."

"I do _not_ love him," she said firmly. "His actions persuaded me long ago of the weakness of his character. And I do not recall granting you permission to use my given name, my lord. Especially a shortened form that no one has ever used before."

"A new name for a new life," he smirked. "To me you will always be Ellie. Who is the man to whom you expected to be betrothed tonight?"

"The Crown Prince of Denmark, Prince Christian," she said and frowned.

That information, at least, she might have withheld.

"Christian?" He raised his brows. "Your next dancing partner? That is interesting. But you have had another fortunate escape. If he is as I remember him, he is a dull dog."

"He is _not_ ," she protested. "He is charming and amiable and a polished conversationalist."

"My point exactly," he said. "A dull dog. You will be far better off with me."

She looked steadily at him and he looked as steadily back.

Oh, dear God, she thought, he really _was_ serious.

The edges of her vision was darkening again. But this was not the moment to faint. She picked up her fan and somehow found her hand steady enough to open it and waft it before her face once more. She drew in lungfuls of warm, heavily fragrant air.

"Why?" she asked him. "Even if you meet a complete stranger and be convinced after one glance that she is the one lady above all others whom you wish to marry, _why_ must you marry her within two weeks?"

For the first time there was a slight curve to his lips that might almost be described as a decent smile.

"If I am not wed within the next fourteen days," he told her, "I am going to be utterly penniless until my grandfather shuffles off this mortal coil, which may well not be for another twenty or thirty years. Apart from some rheumatism, he appears to be in excellent health for his age. He will be eighty in two weeks' time and yesterday he summoned me into his presence and issued an ultimatum- marry before his birthday or be cut off from the rents and profits of the home where I grew up and from which the heirs traditionally draw their income. And I was also threatened to lose my birthright to become the next king. I was raised as a royal gentleman with expectations of wealth and therefore never expected to have to seek employment. I do believe I would make an abysmally inept coal minder even if I felt inclined to try my hand at it. I must marry, you see. And in almost indecent haste. My grandfather, I feel compelled to add, believes it will be impossible. He plans to turn Willock Castle over to my cousin, his next heir after me, on his birthday unless I am respectably married before then."

Elsa stared at him, speechless. It was now without a doubt that the man _was_ serious.

"What have you done," she asked him, "to incur such wrath? The punishment seems unusually cruel if it is just that you have procrastinated in choosing a suitable bride."

"I chose a bride five years ago," he told her. "I was, _in fact_ , very content with my choice. I was head over ears in love with her. But the night before our wedding I had eloped with her brother's wife and lived in sin with her- since the husband would not divorce her- until her death four months ago."

Elsa gawked at him, transfixed. Yes. Oh, yes, _that_ was it. Five years ago. It had happened a year before she was coronated as the next Queen of Norway and it was settled that she would govern the land in the capital city, Arendelle. At that time, she was full of woes and fear, hiding behind the strong walls of the palace which she grew up in with Anna. But even then, she had heard of the scandal that was particularly heavily talked of. She had thought that the Prince of Switzerland must be the devil himself.

This was _him_?

His eyes were fixed on hers. His darkening, angular face was filled with mockery.

"My grandfather doubtless wishes," he continued, "that he could simply make my cousin his heir and cut me out of everything that is his. It cannot be done, of course due to my direct lineage, but he _can_ certainly make me very uncomfortable and very miserable indeed for the rest of his long life."

"Are you not _ashamed_?" she asked him and then felt the color flood her face. It was an impertinent question. What had happened was none of her business. Except that he wanted _her_ to marry him in fourteen days or fewer so that he could keep the income and the throne.

"Not at all," he said. "Thing happen, Ellie. One must adjust to one's life accordingly."

She gulped as she could not think of nothing to say in response. She could ask a thousand question, but she had no wish whatsoever to hear or listen to the answers. But why had he done it? How on earth could this man _not_ be ashamed for his reckless action?

She was saved from the necessity of saying anything at all.

"Your newly betrothed swain is approaching to claim his dance," Jack said, looking beyond her again. "It is as well, Ellie, is it not? I have shocked you to the core. I shall take the liberty of calling upon you tomorrow and hope I will not find the door barred coldly against me. I have so very little time in which to find someone else, you see."

She had not even noticed the one set of dances ending and the next one beginning to form. But when she turned her head, she could see that indeed the Danish Prince was approaching at a steady pace towards them.

"This is my set, I believe, Queen Elsa," he said, smiling genially at her and acknowledging the Crown Prince of Switzerland with the merest nod of his head.

"Oh, yes, indeed."

Prince Jack stood up when she did. He took her right hand in his as her previously assumed betrothed was extending one arm and raised it firefly to his soft lips.

"I shall see you tomorrow, then, my love," he murmured before nodding to the other prince and walking away- and out through the ballroom doors.

 _My love?_

Prince Christian raised his eyebrows as she set her hand on his sleeve. Elsa smiled at him innocently. There was no point in trying to explain, was there? She owed him no explanation, anyway.

But really…

 _My love._

He had eloped with a married lady the night before his planned wedding to her sister-in-law.

Could any gentleman be further beyond the pale of respectability?

 _And he wanted her to marry him_.

He would indeed find the door barred coldly against him if he should have the effrontery to come calling tomorrow. Could any day- any evening- be stranger than this one? Even as Elsa walked to line up next to the other noble women, she could feel the scorching reminder of Prince Jack's hot lips.

* * *

 **Thank you again for reading the new update! I am loving in the rising number of readers, comments, and favourite! (A huge honour for any writer.) I am always eager to read your reviews so please leave one below! I would truly appreciate it as a token of your thanks. Cheers!**


	5. Rumours

_**Seducing a Queen**_

 **By: Itachi Black**

 **Chapter 5**

ELSA felt very embarrassed as she danced with the Crown Prince of Denmark. She would have felt self-conscious anyway under the complex circumstances- though fortunately he had no way of knowing what her expectations had been when she set out for the ball this evening.

But he had heard Crown Prince Jack calling her _my love_ , and though she had told herself that it was none of his business what anyone else called her, nevertheless the words seemed to hover in the air about them as they danced. It did not help that they danced in absolute silence for the first ten minutes or so.

She smiled until her lips felt stiff.

Did he know who the Crown Prince of Switzerland _was_?

But _of course_ he must know.

After all, he was the one who spoke first.

"Queen Elsa," he said gravely, "forgive me if I am speaking out of turn now and forgive me if I did not speak when perhaps I ought. I _ought_ to have taken that fellow to task for the familiarity with which he addressed you, when I daresay you have never met such a man before this evening."

 _That fellow? Such a man?_ Yes, indeed he knew.

"Prince Jack?" she said lightly. "Oh, I did not take offense, my lord. He was joking. I am relieved you did not take any more notice of his words than they merited."

"But as your friend," he said after hesitating a few moments, "I feel obliged to warn you to keep your distance from the Crown Prince of Switzerland, Queen Elsa. It would pain me to see your unblemished reputation tarnished by any connection with his. I daresay you do not know who he is or why he is justifiably shunned by all respectable people. I would wager he did not receive an invitation to the ball tonight but came quite brazenly without one. And I do not know who thought it appropriate to introduce you to him."

"You are wrong about one thing," she said. "I _do_ know about him. I even remember the scandal, which was still quite fresh around the year before I was coronated. You must not concern yourself, my lord. I am quite capable of looking after myself and choosing my own acquaintances."

Like the gentleman he was, he said no more on the subject and Elsa thought that was surely the end of the matter- beyond having to deny admittance to Prince Jack if he did indeed put in an appearance at Weselton House tomorrow, of course, and beyond having to tell Hans the truth when she saw him next.

Oh, dear, she _had_ behaved foolishly this evening.

She was not proud of herself. She had always been the soul of propriety and discretion. She would remember this evening for a very long time and with considerable discomfort. She turned hot and cold again when she remembered all that she had poured out to the outrageous prince- all her most embarrassing and humiliating secrets. That was surely the worst thing she had done all evening.

Whatever had possessed her!

Rachel and Vanessa were both waiting patiently for her when Prince Christian returned her to their sides. Simon and Edmond were conversing quietly with a group of gentlemen nearby.

"Elsa." Rachel linked an arm firmly and possessively through her. "I was never more happy in my life than to see you dancing with Prince Christian. Whoever presented you to Prince Jack? If it was none other than Duchess Tindall, I will not scruple to tell whomever it was that he or she ought to have known better. That prince is absolutely beyond the pale."

"He even _looks_ disreputable," Vanessa added. "And downright dangerous. Elsa, do you even know that-"

"Yes," Elsa said, interrupting. "I _do_ know that he eloped with his bride's sister-in-law five years ago. I ca not see that makes him an utter pariah today. Perhaps people ought to be entitled to a second chance."

"That is true," Rachel said, patting her hand. "It is very true, indeed. I daresay he is a very sad and contrite gentleman. She died recently, I have heard- the lady with whom he eloped, I mean, though he never did marry her. Her husband would not divorce her. It is just like you to refuse to give the cut direct, Elsa, though it was a little alarming to watch him lead you off the dance floor in the middle of a set in order to sit with you in that alcove."

"Which is in full public view," Elsa pointed out. "I was in no danger whatsoever of being kidnapped or otherwise assaulted.

"True," Vanessa laughed. "But I had visions of him whispering all sorts of improper suggestion in your ear. I might have stridden over there to rescue you myself, but Rachel was dancing at the time and could not accompany me and Edmond thought it was unnecessary to risk making a public scene, since he trusts your good sense. Hans went to see if you needed rescuing, though. I was glad of that even though I know you are not entirely delighted that he is in Bern."

And a mistaken sense of pride had goaded her into introducing the Crown Prince of Switzerland to him as her betrothed. The enormity of what she had done swept over Elsa again. Thank _heaven_ she had at least sworn Hans to secrecy- or as good as sworn him, anyway.

She told him the betrothal had not yet been publicly announced. She must find him without further delay and tell the truth. But he had asked to dance with her later, had he not? She would tell him then, humiliating as it would be. And there- finally- would be an end of the matter.

It was already too late, though.

King Connor was striding toward them across the ballroom, looking uncharacteristically grim, his unwavering eyes fixed upon Elsa.

"Father," Rachel exclaimed as he came up to them. "Whatever is the matter?"

He spoke directly to Elsa.

"Elsa," he said, "I do not know who on earth introduced you to that fellow. Whoever it was deserves to be shot. But that is the least of our worries. The most preposterous rumour is spreading and we are going to have to move quickly to quash it. It is being said that you and Prince Jack are _betrothed_."

"Oh, Father, no!" Vanessa nearly shouted.

"But how very ridiculous! And imaginative!" Rachel said, laughing. "No one will take it seriously, Father. It would be passed as a joke."

Elsa stared at him, speechless.

Edmond and Simon must have heard what their father-in-law had announced. They both turned away from their group immediately.

"I will draw his cork for this," Simon growled. "What does he think he is up to now?"

"It would be more to the point," Edmond said," to draw the cork of the joker who began the incredulous story. It was hardly Kyle himself, as he left the ball half an hour ago. Do you know who _did_ , You Majesty?"

It was Elsa who answered him.

"I fear it must have been Prince Hans," she said, and not for the first time that evening she felt on the verge of fainting.

There was that quite unmistakable buzz in the ballroom that always accompanied the spreading of the newest salacious rumour. Far too many eyes were turned in the direction of her group to be normal.

" _Hans_?" the king's voice was like the mighty thunder. "Why the devil would he suddenly start any such rumour?"

He did not even apologize his language in front of his family- and no one in the group thought to demand an apology either.

"I fear it was something I said," Elsa said. But that was clearly not explanation enough. She drew a deep, somewhat ragged breath. "I introduced Crown Prince Jack of Switzerland to him as my betrothed."

"You _what_?" Edmond demanded in a hushed tone.

The others stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head.

"I also told him no one else knew yet," she said. "It was a _joke_. It was … Well, it was something I said impulsively due to my mood and would have corrected later when I dance with him."

To say she felt foolish and embarrassed- as well as a number of other uncomfortable things- would be a massive understatement.

The buzz of excited conversation about them had not yet abated.

"But what," Rachel asked, "did Prince Jack have to say about such an extraordinary announcement, Elsa?"

Elsa licked lips that were suddenly dry. "It was he who suggested it," she started. "And he wants to make it real. He wants to marry me. But it is really all nonsense and best forgotten."

The whole evening seemed like a ghastly nightmare. She would be fortunate if they did not haul her off to Arendelle before the night was out.

"Which may be easier said than done," Simon said, bowing to her and extending a hand for hers. "You are attracting a great deal of attention, Queen Elsa, especially as Kyle has absconded and cannot take his half share. Come and dance with me again. And smile. Rachel and I will escort you to our estate afterward, and the others may remain to dispel the foul rumours as best as they can."

Elsa, shamed from the evening, set her hands in his.

"This is so very ridiculous," she said angrily.

"Most gossip is," he said. "It can also be very tenacious.

"Where is Hans?" King Conner asked grimly, looking around the room. "I'll break his damned neck for him."

"Tomorrow will be time enough for that," Edmond said. "We do not need to confront him here to add to the general delight, Your Majesty. Dance with Vanessa, if you will. And please do watch your language in the presence of my wife and sister-in-law. Rachel, may I have the pleasure?"

And thus, Elsa danced with Simon for a second time and smiled at the light, amusing banter he kept up throughout. It was truly awful to be the main focus of attention in the room, especially when she knew she had brought it on herself.

But how _could_ Hans have done this to her? She had never known him to be openly spiteful to take a jab at anyone.

She was clearly going to have to wait out the gossip with all the patience she could muster, she decided later as she rode home beside Crown Princess Rachel in Archduke Simon's large carriage. It ought not take too long once the _ton_ realized there was no basis to the rumour. And then she was going to settle back to her old respectable life even if it meant being a queen without a husband for as long as she lived.

Elsa went to bed that night before King Conner returned home. She even managed to sleep fitfully between spells of agonized wakefulness in which she remembered every secret she had poured out to that stormy blue eyed, grim-faced stranger who had once abandoned his bride and eloped with a married lady and lived in sin with her until her unfortunate and untimely death. And there were the wakeful spells in which she remembered introducing him to Hans as her betrothed.

And Hans had gone and told the whole world!

She even slept later than usual in the morning. King Conner was up before her. He had already breakfasted and left the grounds, the butler informed her so when she had asked.

He had left his place at the breakfast table untidy. The dishes had been cleared away by the maids, but his morning paper had been left open wide and then bunched in a heap beside where his plate had been. Elsa went to fold it up neatly but first let her eyes rover over the topmost page. It was the one that was always devoted to society gossip.

And there was her own name, leaping off the page at her as if it had legs and wings.

She bent closer to read, her eyes widening in great horror.

 _Queen Elsa Magnus,_ the journalist had written, _the eldest sister of Princess Anna of Arendelle, had been seen sitting in scandalous seclusion in a remote alcove of Duchess Tindall's ballroom the previous evening tête-à-tête with Europe's very notorious jilting wife-stealer, Crown Prince of Switzerland, Prince Jack Frost Overland,_ whom the writer had reported seeing skulking about town a few days ago. _And when the Queen was confronted by a friend who had a_ _pproached in order to rescue her from the next scandal or even worse harm, until the Queen, who was once well-known for her sensibility, had boldly presented Prince Jack as her betrothed. The beau monde might well be asking itself if the lady was quite as respectable as_ _she had always appeared to be. And even more importantly, is she fit to continue to reign as a sovereign…_

Elsa did not read any further. She closed the paper with trembling hands, as if she could thereby obliterate what is said. A bad dream had just turned itself into the worst of nightmares.

She finally sat down shivering and recalling how the spreading of vicious and almost entirely untrue gossip had once forced Princess Rachel into marrying Archduke Simon two years ago.

History was not about to repeat itself with her was it?

Oh, surely not! Such catastrophes would not lay its atrocious talons into her life.

Whatever was she going to _do_?

Jack very much doubted that Queen Elsa Magnus was a woman of gossip- especially at her own expense and on the topic of her meeting with him. It must have been that other prince with the peculiar wet-sounding name and the red hair, then.

For gossip there was.

It was his mother who alerted him. She actually appeared at breakfast the morning after the Tindall ball, albeit well after Sir Graham had left for his club and just as Jack himself was about to rise from the table. He was aware that she had been at the ball, though he had not been there long enough himself to see her.

"Jack," she said as she swept into the breakfast parlor, still clad in a dressing gown of a pale blue diaphanous material that billowed and wafted about her, though her hair had been immaculately styled and he suspected that her cheeks were rouged, "you are up already. I scarcely slept a wink all night. I feel quite haggard. But you were not in your room when we arrived home last night, you provoking man, and so there was no talking with you then. I did not hear you come home. It must have been at some unearthly hour. _Do_ tell me if it is true. Can it _possibly_ be? _Are_ you betrothed to the most independent woman of Europe, the Queen of Norway? The older sister of Princess Anna? _The_ Queen Elsa? Without a word to your own mother? It would be a splendid match for you, my love. Your grandfather will be quite reconciled to you if it _is_ true. And that will be a very good thing as Graham has been grumbling and complaining, the silly man, that you will be living under his roof for the rest of our lives. Not that he does not love you in his own unique way, but … But speak up, do, Jack, please do. It would be so much nice than just sitting there silently as though there were nothing to tell. _Are_ you betrothed?"

"In one word, Mama," he said, hiding his surprise and signaling the butler to fill his coffee cup again, "no. Not yet, anyway, and perhaps never. I danced with the lady once last evening, that is all."

"That is not all," his mother protested. "Queen Elsa presented you to someone- oh, I cannot for the life of me remember who- as her betrothed. Hannah Walters told me so and she never spreads stories unless they are accurate. Besides, _everyone_ was saying so."

"Then, Mama," he said, getting to his feet after taking one sip of the fresh coffee, "you had no need to ask me, did you? You will excuse me? I ought to have been at the Jeremey's Boxing Salon twenty minutes ago."

"It is _not_ true, then?" she asked, looking crestfallcrestfallen.

"Queen Elsa was provoked into saying what she did," he said, "at my suggestion. I will be calling on her later today to discuss the matter."

His mother looked befuddled but hopeful as she gazed at him and ignored the warm food before her.

"But when did you _meet_ the lady, Jack?" she asked. "That is what has been puzzling me all night as I tossed and turned and I daresay it is puzzling too, as he could suggest no answer when I asked him that very question. He would only grunt in that odious way of his. You have been in town only a few days. Now that I think of it, I do not believe Queen Elsa has been here much longer. I do not remember seeing herehhhhh before last evening, though I have seen other royalties everywhere, including that very handsome King Connor and his two beautiful daughters. Oh, _now_ I see! You met elsewhere and arranged to meet again here. You-"

He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

"Keep all this to yourself for a while, will you, Mama?" he asked.

Though it was surely a pointless thing to ask, if the ballroom had been buzzing with the rumour last evening after he had left.

"But of course," she said. "You know that I am the soul of discretion, Jack. I shall tell Graham what you have told me, of course, but we hold no such secrets from each other."

He went off to Jeremey's. The first man he encountered there was Kyle Magnus and his initial suspicion that Kyle had been waiting there for him was soon confirmed.

"Come and spar with me, Jack," he said, but it was more of an ultimatum rather an affable invitation.

"It will be my pleasure," Jack replied. "You look as if you are ready to punch my head in, though. Which, I must confess, is preferable to sparring with one of those fellows who like to prance about striking poses that they think make them look manly."

Kyle did not laugh or even grin at his humor. He went on looking grim and a little white about the mouth.

Kyle was Elsa's cousin, Jack remembered suddenly. After all, the man's full name was Kyle _Magnus_. One would not expect there to be much love lost between the two branches of the family, though, since Kyle was the eldest son of the late duke‑ who had been Elsa's father's younger twin- merely inherited the title of _duke_ , instead of _king_. There was that asinine law to the effect that a man- or a woman‑ that made the eldest child of the nation's king and queen the future monarch, even if both parents died and there was an older male cousin, who had the bloodline very close to the main branch of the royal family, could govern the country. If it hadn't been his father who was born eleven minutes prior to his twin brother, it would have been Kyle to sit on the throne as the head monarch. That law had always made him slightly upset.

So why should Kyle suddenly care about the welfare of Elsa Magnus, the eldest child who inherited the title as 'Queen'?

But it was apparent, Kyle did, though.

He spoke again after they had stripped down to the waist and were in the ring, circling each other warily and taking preliminary jabs, testing the land, watching for weaknesses, looking for openings to strike.

"I cannot believe, Jack," he said, "that you can be serious in your intention to marry Elsa. Why did you allow that story to spread last evening?"

Jack saw a clear path to his opponent's chin and headed through it with a quick right jab. But Kyle neatly deflected the blow and buried one of his own in Jack's unprotected stomach.

It hurt like the devil and for a moment Jack was winded by the sharp strike. He would not show it, though. He was a little ashamed to find himself so out of practice, if the truth were told. He hooked his left arm wide and dealt Kyle a strong blow to the side of his head.

Kyle winced.

"One does not either permit a story to spread it or stop it from doing so once it has started," Jack said. "Stories quickly develop a life of their own when there are people to begin them and people start to believe them. This particular story did not even start up until after I had left the ball."

They concentrated upon throwing precise punches at each other for several minutes. It became quickly obvious to Jack that this was no friendly bout.

"You are saying, then, that the story is untrue?" Kyle asked somewhat later, when the ferocity of their attacks had abated and they were catching their jagged breaths before going back at it.

"That I am betrothed to Queen Elsa?" Jack said. "Yes, it is. That she introduced me to a popinjay in a scarlet coat as her betrothed? No, it is not. I was not there to hear the details of the story myself and so am not sure what it is exactly I am being called upon to confirm or deny."

He spotted the same path to Kyle's chin again- there was a definite weakness in his defenses there- and this time he successfully planted a right upper cut, snapping Kyle's head back. But, as before, Kyle also buried a fist in his midriff again. Jack received it with an audible woof of expelled air and stepped in closer with both fists flying. And two fists flew back at him with equal ferocity.

They pummeled each other for several more minutes without talking or relenting their attacks, until they were both undeniably sore and breathless and sweating and the strength was going from their powerful arms. Eventually they backed off by unspoken assent, neither of them having succeeded in putting the other down.

"I like you, Jack," Kyle said, reaching for his white towel. "I always did. It did not bother me that you ran off with Mrs. Milford instead of marrying _Miss_ Milford. A fellow's business is his own and solely his. I assumed that you had your reasons for doing what you did. But this time your business if mine too."

Jack flexed his knuckles, though not with any intention of renewing their fight. They were looking red and even raw.

"Queen Elsa is your business?" he asked.

"She is when someone is about to hurt her," Kyle said, "even if only her reputation. She has had a raw deal of a life, Jack, as women all too often do. She was not even sixteen when both of her parents had passed away and at their funeral, she swore in front of their tombstones that she would make a home for her only younger sister, Anna, until she was all grown up and settled in life. That was long before my own father and then my brother, Luke, died. She was young and lost in life. She was forced to shed from her childhood and inherit a wisdom and knowledge to rival any noble men and noble women. All in the name as the future Queen of Norway and for the sake of honoring her deceased parents. It was deemed impossible for a mere girl to study everything, begin governing the land, and take care of her younger sister, without crumbling to pressure and stress. The parliament even considered passing the throne over to me, as the third in line, because the girls were far too young and unprepared for the society. However, I was intrigued in the capability of my cousin- _if_ she was worthy to become the queen. I wanted to test her and _my fate_ and the fate of my father. It was miraculous and respectable to watch her flourish as a woman and succeed in her task. She proved the government wrong, the country wrong, Europe wrong, and lastly, she proved me wrong. Elsa had become the queen our country needed. Elsa made sure to teach her younger sister and two years ago Anna had been wed to Kristoff. I respect her. And she is finally free of any obligations, besides the country, but she has lost her childhood and youth. She is no longer young. She has probably realized that if she does not marry soon, she will be unable to wed or have future heirs. I can see that she would be an easy prey to such as you."

The man spoke heatedly despite the fact that he was still half out of breath and his eyes also burned with passion. It was clear Kyle now admired his cousin and his loyalty was firmly placed with her.

"Such as me?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Mrs. Milford is dead," Kyle said, "So is your father, Jack, and your grandfather is an old man. You have come to town, I presume, in order to choose a bride."

"And if I have chosen Queen Elsa," Jack continued, wrapping his navy blue towel about his shoulders and wiping his face with it, "it must be because I intend to _hurt_ her?"

"Your notoriety itself will hurt her," Kyle said. "Leave her alone, Jack. Choose someone less vulnerable."

"But if the story of how she presented me to Lawns- or was it Cons or Hans? _Hans_! That was it. If the story has spread, Kyle, and obviously it has," Jack said, "will I not hurt her quite irreparably by withdrawing my offer now?"

Kyle gazed stormily at him. "Damn you, Jack." He scrubbed at his face and arms and chest with his towel and stalked off to retrieve his clothes. "Why did you have to choose Elsa of all people? If you marry her and hurt so much as a hair on her head, you will have me to answer to. _This_ was nothing."

He jerked his head back in the direction of the ring. "This was mere sparring."

"Are you going to White's by any chance?" Jack asked. "If you are, I will walk with you."

But going to White's brought him face-to-face with Duke Edmond Lacher, a man who looked fairly close to Queen Elsa at the ball. The last time they had met, the young man was only Viscount Lacher.

"Duke Edmond." Prince Jack nodded affably to him and the older man with dark brown curls who was with him, and would have proceeded on his way to the reading room to look at the morning papers if that blond man had not quite deliberately blocked his way.

"Prince Jack," the duke snarled, frowning ferociously. "I will have a word with you. My wife, if you did not know it, was the former Mrs. Elizabeth Westergard and before that, Miss Vanessa, Princess of Weselton. This is His Majesty, King Conner of Weselton.

Ah, so the duke had a connection with both the Westergards and the Weseltons, did he? Jack sighed inwardly. He had not realized that.

King Conner inclined his head and looked very grim. He was a handsome man for his old age and a slender one, but Jack's practiced eyes registered the fact that it would be a grand mistake to assume that the man was therefore a weakling. Even if he was much older than himself, the king's physique looked very well honed and the face had character.

"Ah, Your Majesty, this is a surprise," Jack said. "You are just the man I would have been seeking out later today."

He had not thought of doing so until the very moment actually. It was a while since he had made any formal marriage offer. It was obvious that King Connor wasn't Elsa's legitimate father, but that protective demeanor, the king's age, and his close relationship with Queen Elsa seemed to equate him as the father-figure. Especially because she was staying at his residence with his daughters. It would surely be decent of him to meet King Connor formally before moving onto Queen Elsa to discuss about the marriage settlements and all the other business surrounding an impending marriage offer.

"Later today is a little _too_ late, is it not," King Conner asked him curtly, "when the question has already been asked and answered and word spread among half the _ton_? And announced in the morning paper?"

"Announced in the paper?" Jack asked in pure astonishment.

Extraordinary. And it _must_ have been that petty prince with the weak chin. No one else could have seen him and Queen Elsa talking to each other and thought of spreading the rumor that they were _betrothed_. Jack would not mind having a word or two with Prince Hans.

How was Queen Elsa holding up this morning? Jack wondered. Were circumstances playing into his hands and almost forcing her into accepting him? If the _ton_ believed that she was betrothed to him- and clearly it did, or _would_ once it had read the paper this morning- she would cause herself some embarrassment if she cried off. On the other hand, marrying him was going to bring her scandal. He was not the _ton's_ favorite son.

Queen Elsa, it seemed, had trapped herself somewhere between the devil and the deep blue sea.

"I would have said no a thousand times over," King Conner said while Duke Edmond loomed, silent, and menacing, "if you had done all this properly in order not to shame the dear queen. She's like a daughter to me and if she was, I would have said no a thousand times over. And I would _still_ say no if the answer were mine to give after you settled this properly. Unfortunately, Queen Elsa is not subject to my will. She is her own person and can answer for herself. I do not like you, Prince Jack."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"As far as I remember," he said, "we met only for the first time a few moments ago, King Conner. You form impressions with great haste."

"I do not like men," the king retorted, "who abandon their brides to private heartache and public scorn and run off with lawfully married ladies instead. I do not like such men at all especially when they are contemplating marriage to those who are preciously close to me. And I do not need any prolonged acquaintance to form such judgement."

Prince Jack inclined his head.

"We are beginning to attract attention, Father," Edmond whispered.

The halls were large enough and wide enough that they were in no danger of blocking the progress of other gentlemen as they arrived or left. But heads were indeed turning their way- and no wonder if the Tindall ballroom had been abuzz with gossip as Jack imagined it must have been- and if the gossip writer had made as juicy a morsel of the story as gossip writers usually did. And now here was he, the notorious Crown Prince Jack, in company with one of the closest royal family linked to Queen Elsa's company, all of them looking as solemn as if they were attending a funeral. Yes, of course they were attracting attention.

"I promised Queen Elsa last evening," Jack said, "that I would call upon at your estate this afternoon. If I may, King Conner, I will speak with you there first."

The king nodded stiffly and Prince Jack bowed elegantly to the two gentlemen and went on his own way.

He would have left White's without having gone farther than the reception hall, but sheer pride prevented him from crawling away now. Besides, he wanted to read what had been written about him in the morning papers. He proceeded upstairs, where he was greeted by a number of gentlemen. Indeed some of the greetings were jovial and even raucous and accompanied by much back-slapping.

Among a certain crowd, it seemed, he had established himself one devil of a fine fellow.

And then he read the description of himself as a jilt and a wife-stealer.

Both perfectly true.

And he read that he had been presented to the friend of who had come to the rescue of Queen Elsa as her betrothed.

It was indeed Hans who had betrayed her, then. _Again_.

Jack would definitely want a word with that particular red-haired prince.

There was, he learned before leaving the club after an early luncheon, a wager written in the betting book on whether or not he would abandon _this_ bride at the altar. The odds were heavily in favor of his doing so.

And this afternoon he would be making Queen Elsa Magnus a formal marriage offer, which she might well feel compelled to accept now. He would be left with thirteen days in which to present her to his grandfather and arrange a wedding by special license.

His freedom was going to be bought- _if_ she accepted him, that was- at a very steep price.

Though freedom was not the issue, was it?

Charles was.

hee


	6. Chorus of Protests

_**Seducing a Queen**_

 **By: Itachi Black**

 **Chapter 6**

QUEEN Elsa's first instinct after seeing the paper was to retreat to her private chamber, crawl back into the safety of her bed, and pull the thick covers over her head. Perhaps by the time she re-emerged the whole sorry episode would be ancient news and someone would have murdered his poor aging grandmother or married his scullery maid or ridden horseback naked while singing throughout the streets or done _something_ equally startling with which to distract the fickle attention of the _ton_.

The _ton_ could not be seriously interested, surely, in the fact that a dull, aging, independent Queen had lied to a young prince who had once spurned her love by telling him she was betrothed to a villainous, wife-stealing rake- who _also_ happened to be a prince.

But, oh, dear, when put that way, the fact really did sound intriguing, even to her. She groaned against the mattress.

Creeping off back to bed would obviously solve nothing, she decided. She would go out instead. She would call on Vanessa, and perhaps together they would go to Rachel's, and the three of them would share a good laugh over last evening and the silly story in the paper this morning.

It was a good thing they all had a good sense of humor.

But was any of this _funny_?

Of course not.

She would dearly like to have a word with Prince Hans, Elsa thought. More than a word, in fact. She would more than like to give him a good tongue-lashing about now. It was true that it was she who had told a ridiculous and foolish lie, but why on earth had he spread the story about when she had also _told_ him no one else knew yet, even her family? Had it been done out of sheer spite? But _why?_

He was a royal like her, was he not? He would well know the proper order for a betrothal. And this was not the way to do it in the least. He ought to know better.

But it was as if her wish conjured him. A footman came into the breakfast parlor at that moment to inform the butler, who informed Elsa, that Prince Hans had asked to see Queen Elsa and had been shown into the visitors' parlor.

Elsa followed the stoic butler there and swept past him after he had opened the door for her.

Hans, in his native uniform, was standing before the empty fireplace, looking smart and imposing and decidedly uncomfortable- as well he might. He bowed to her and stayed in that position for a few more seconds.

"Els-", he began.

"I want an explanation," she demanded, glaring coldly at him. "Do you hate me so much, Hans? But the better question would be, _why_ do you hate me? What have I ever done to deserve it? What wrong have I done upon you?"

"My God, Elsa," he said, taking a step toward her and looking at her, aghast, "I do not hate you. I have always adored you. You must know that."

Her head snapped back as if he had struck her.

" _Adored_ me?" she asked, her voice full of scorn. " _Have you_?"

"You are thinking of my late-wife, Teresa," he said. "I can explain that, Elsa. I swear."

"So can I," she said. "An imbecile could explain it. But I am not interested in hearing your explanation about the events from long ago. However, why did you betray me last evening?"

"Betray?" he said, stunned. "That is a very harsh judgment, Elsa. You _are_ betrothed to Prince Jack, are you not? You told me so yourself- both at the park and at the ball."

"And on _both_ occasions," she said, "I have told you that no announcement had yet been made, that even my family had not been told. It did not occur to me to swear you to secrecy. I trusted to your discretion and your honour. I clearly miscalculated my judgement."

He winced visibly.

"I was only concerned about you, my dearest Elsa," he said. "I was talking with Vanessa and her husband, Duke Edmond, when you left the dance floor to sit in that alcove with Prince Jack. Edmond explained who he was and wondered who had dared to introduce him to you. You could not possibly know that he was not a suitable acquaintance, he said. That worried your friend, and she would have undoubtedly gone and fetch you herself if her husband had not advised against it. Thus, I went instead. I hoped to draw you away from him without creating any sort of scene- I thought perhaps you would welcome the chance to escape if you already knew about him or at least, be grateful once you learned the truth. But instead you told me you were berothed to the man! What was I to do then?"

"Obviously," she said, "there was only one thing _to_ do, and you did it. You told everyone in the ballroom."

"I merely confided in two of my fellow officers," he admitted. "They are my friends and I trust them. I asked for their opinion on whether a man who had known you all his life as a childhood friend had the right to interfere in your life to the extent of trying to persuade you to break off your engagement."

"You have _not_ known me all my life," she said. "For example, you have not known me _at all_ for the last nine years, Hans."

He cringed once more while Elsa thought pensively. _... as a childhood friend_... somehow those words had stung. Had there been nothing else between them as far as he was concerned?

"Elsa," he said, "Jack Frost Overland is a scoundrel of the first order. He ought not even been there last night. I seriously doubt he had been sent an invitation. You cannot be possibly be serious about marrying him. Break off the engagement and marry me instead."

" _What?_ " Her blue eyes widened.

"No one will blame you," he said. "Indeed, everyone will applaud your good sense."

"In choosing to marry _you_?" she said, with an arched brow.

He flushed.

"You would have married me once upon a time," he pointed out. "If your parents had lived, we probably _would_ have married long ago, blissfully, in fact. Nothing much has changed since then except that we are both a little older. And except that you are lovelier now than you were then." He smiled very charmingly.

"And that you have been married in the meanwhile," she said. "And that you have a daughter."

"Who needs a mother," he spoke softly. "Elsa-"

But she held up a hand and he stopped.

He was asking her to marry him. After all this time, after all that had happened, he now expected her to _marry_ him? After the terrible embarrassment he had caused her last evening?

But she would not allow her attention to be diverted from the main issue.

"It was one of the other officers who spread the news of my betrothal, then?" she asked. "Is that what you are saying, Hans?"

"It was not intentional and it was certainly not malicious," he said. "I was ready to rip him apart this morning after hearing all the gossip last evening and reading the papers this morning. But he was as concerned as I. He only mentioned what I had told him to his cousin when he spoke with her after leaving me- in strictest confidence, of course. He had wanted a woman's opinion in the matter."

And so the stories, rumours, gossip spread as surely as a wildfire did after a single spark had caught alight. The cousin had told someone else in confidence, and that someone else spoke to another person and so forth.

Well.

"I am so very, very sorry, Elsa," he apologized. "I realize it must be distressing to you to have your betrothal made public before you had even a chance to break the news to your family- and presumably before Prince Jack could apply formally to your brother-in-law, Kristoff- was it and your sister, Anna, for your hand. But there would have been gossip sooner or later, you know, if your own friends had been unable to talk you out of such an ineligible connection. It was not to be avoided. Jack is a social pariah and justifiably so. I really do not understand how you can have listened to an offer from the likes of him, let alone accepted one. Elsa-"

"Your long apology has been made," she said, interrupting him. "I assume that was your reason for coming here this morning, Hans. You will excuse me now. I was on my way to call upon Nessie when you arrived."

"Elsa," he spoke in a firm tone while taking another step toward her, "don't marry the wretched man. I beg you. You will be miserable. Marry me instead."

"And live happily ever after?" she nearly scoffed.

He had the grace to flush his face again.

"Sometimes," he said, "we need time in which to gain wisdom and make up for past mistakes."

Elsa frowned and said, "I truly hope you are not calling your late wife a mistake, Hans. Or your daughter. And perhaps Prince Jack ought to be granted the same opportunity to demonstrate that he is a wiser man now than he was five years ago and is willing and able to recover from past errors."

He signed audibly and then made her another bow.

"Your family and friends will all have something to say about this betrothal, I promise you," he said. "Listen to them, Elsa. Don't go against them just out of stubbornness. You always were the most stubborn person I knew, I remember. If you will not listen to me, then please listen to them. Promise me?"

She merely raised her eyebrows and stared at him for a while and he was simply obliged to bid her an abrupt good morning and march past her to let himself out of the room.

Meanwhile, Elsa stood where she was, listening to his boot heels ringing on the clean, marble floor of the hall and to the sounds of the outer door opening for him and then closing behind him.

 _He had asked her to marry him._

The last time he asked she had wanted quite literally to die because she had loved him so very dearly but had been unable to accept his proposal, because he was going away to war in order to serve his country and people and she had to stay home to bring up her younger sister, educate herself, and be coronated as the new ruler.

And now?

Could a love of that magnitude die? If it was true love, could it ever die? Was there such a thing as true love? Life was very sad and meek if there were not- and unbearably so if one's experience with romantic love turned one into an incurable cynic.

But she did not love Hans any longer. She did not _want_ to love him again. Thing could never be the same between them. Was love conditional, then? Was she determined not to love him because he had been faithless once and caused her years of heartache and grief?

Then whoever could possibly deserve love if it was conditional upon perfect behavior? After all, no human being was perfect.

Did _he_ love _her_? He had said he adored her. But did he also _love_ her? Had he _ever_? But if he had, how could he have married someone else?

Had he _loved_ his wife- Teresa?

Oh, she was horribly upset again. She had thought Hans could never again have this kind of power over her.

Elsa sighed and shook her head weakly and turned determinedly to the door. She would go and make that call on Vanessa. She would see the children and restore her spirits. Never mind that silly gossip last evening or the even sillier paragraph in this morning's paper. And never mind Hans. Or Prince Jack of Switzerland, who had to marry within the next two weeks or lose everything until after his grandfather died. Why should she care about his problems? And never mind the Prince of Denmark and his pretty future wife.

Life could be unutterably depressing at times, but it went on. There was no point in giving in to depression.

There was a tap on the door and it opened before she could reach it.

"There is an Archduchess Overland to see you, Your Highness," the butler informed her. "Will you receive her, Queen Elsa?"

Duchess Overland? Elsa's brows furrowed, trying to think who the lady could be. The title was very unfamiliar, but the name sounded familiar. But why on earth would she be calling in the morning when most social calls were made in the afternoon? Especially when they did not know each other.

Duchess _Overland_ _._ Her eyes widened slightly. Had not Crown Prince Jack introduced himself as Jack Frost Overland? Who _was_ this lady? His _mother_?

Was this whole foolish business _never_ to end?

"Show her in, by all means," she said.

Duchess Overland was probably younger than she was, Elsa decided as soon as the lady stepped into the room. She was fashionably clad in a pale emerald carriage dress with a poke bonnet to match and the young lady was small and slender and blond and exquisitely lovely in a fragile sort of way.

Not his mother, then, Elsa thought. His sister? But she wore a small golden ring on her left, fourth finger which meant she was a married woman.

"Queen Elsa?" The elegant duchess curtsied and regarded Elsa with slightly slanted eyes, which were as green as her dress.

Elsa inclined her head.

"We have not met," the lady started, her voice sweet and breathless, "but I felt compelled to call upon you as soon as I heard. Your Highness, you _must_ not marry Prince Jack. You _really_ must not. He is the very devil and will bring you nothing but misery and ostracism from society. Do please forgive this impertinence from a complete stranger, but I had to take the risk of coming and warning you."

Elsa rejected her first impulse, which was to offer the lady a seat. She clasped her delicate hands at her waist and raised her eyebrows. Yes, this _was_ indeed an impertinence.

"Duchess Overland?" she said. "You are a relative of Prince Jack?"

"It pains me to have to admit it," the lady said, flushing, "though fortunately he is a relative only by marriage. He is my dear husband's second cousin."

Elsa kept her eyebrows raised. She did not know what to say.

"You may known _of_ me," Duchess Overland said. "My maiden name was Milford. I came within a few hours of making the most dreadful mistake of my life. I almost married the Crown Prince myself five years ago. Instead, I married my dear _Nathan Overland_ shortly after and have been blissfully content with him ever since."

Oh, goodness. This was the abandoned bride, the sister-in-law of the infamous Angelica Milford, who had run off with the prince.

"Yes," Elsa said, "I _have_ heard of you, of course. But-"

But this was none of her business. She had no wish to listen to the whole sordid story- or any part of it, for that matter.

"Your Highness, I am aware that I do not have an acquaintance with you," the Duchess said. Clearly she had come to talk, not to listen. "But I _do_ know you by reputation. You are very well respected and a remarkable woman and a wonderful older sister of Princess Anna. I daresay it is irksome to you still to be unmarried when your younger sister have made such a brilliant match, but believe me, Queen Elsa, the answer does not lie in marrying Prince Jack. My dear brother was the happiest of men before Angelica was seduced away by that _monster_. He would have taken her back and forgiven her transgression at any time after she left. He would not divorce her, as everyone who knew him advised. He never lost hope that she would return home and beg his forgiveness- which he would freely have given. He was devastated by the news of her death. _That man_ , Queen Elsa, has ruined my brother's life and shamed our great country and he would have ruined mine too if my dear husband had not been kind and honourable enough to marry me himself."

Elsa gazed at her in pure astonishment.

"I must thank you for your visit and your concern," she said. "Will you forgive me if I do not offer you refreshments? I am about to go out. My friend is expecting me."

She had decided very recently, she remembered, that she would never tell a lie again.

"Of course," the lady said. "I will not delay your appointment. And I do beg you to forgive me, Your Highness. It has been almost unbearably painful, you must understand, to know _that man_ has had the effrontery to return to Bern. My brother suffers dreadfully from the knowledge, as do I. My dear Duke Overland is chagrined beyond words, since he must bear the shame of sharing a name with Prince Overland. It has been our fervent hope that we would neither see nor hear from him until we leave town at the end of the Season. We certainly had no desire to be embroiled in his business. But when I learned this morning that he had snared yet another innocent, respectable lady such as yourself into his net, I found the knowledge _truly_ unbearable. I knew I had no choice but to come to warn you, to _beg_ you to break off the betrothal before it is too late. Promise me that you will, Your Highness."

"I appreciate your concern for my happiness," Elsa said, crossing the room with firm steps to open the door. "And I thank you for coming. You will excuse me now?"

"Of course," Duchess Overland replied, still waiting until Elsa held the door open for her. "I felt it my duty to come and warn you as another royal member."

The Queen inclined her head and stood in the doorway to watch her visitor leave.

She was still all astonishment What had _that_ been about? It was perfectly understandable, of course, that the lady would hate the Crown Prince, both on her account and on that of her brother. But why would she feel it necessary to call upon the woman who was supposedly betrothed to the prince? It could not possibly be _jealously,_ could it? Did the woman still _love_ Prince Jack Overland?

That was surely impossible.

 _This_ , Elsa thought, was all very bewildering indeed. For the sake of a moment's triumphant satisfaction in telling Hans that she was betrothed to someone else, she had set in motion all these ridiculous consequences.

Perhaps instead of going to call upon Vanessa, she should remain here and give orders for her bags be packed. She suddenly longed for the peace and sanity of her secluded room within her castle. Away from all _this_ drama.

Actually, that was what she would do, in fact.

But before she could leave the doorway of the visitors' parlor, there was yet another knock at the outer door and a footman opened it to admit Princess Vanessa and Crown Princess Rachel, come together to call upon her.

"Oh, well," Elsa said without even attempting to disguise the irritability from her voice, "you had better come in here, the both of you, and join your voices to the choir."

"The choir?" Rachel said after they had stepped into the parlor and the footman had closed the door from the outside.

"Of those urging me to put an end to a nonexistent betrothal," Elsa said. "First it was Hans, then Duchess Overland, and now presumably you two. Whoever will be next, I wonder?"

It was an obvious rhetorical question. However, it was answered almost immediately. There was another tap at the parlor door even before the three ladies had the chance to sit down, and it opened to admit Kyle.

"Ah!" Elsa exclaimed, throwing both hands in the air.

"I will politely not ask if that gesture demonstrates delight at seeing me or displeasure," he said cheerfully as he crossed the room toward her and took one of her hands in both his own before releasing it again. "But I hope it is the former, my beloved cousin. I have just come from a vigorous sparring bout at Jeremey's and am hoping you will offer me tea or coffee."

King Conner and Edmond then arrived together before the tea tray and bite-sized snacks were brought in by the butler.

Simon followed them in before Elsa had finished pour the tea for everybody.

Elsa wondered if she had ever felt more foolish in her life and decided that it was not possible.

And talk about storms in teacups!

She was also angry but had not decided with whom she was most annoyed. Herself, perhaps?

Hans had told her she was stubborn and always had been. The accusation itself irritated her. But he must have been correct, she concluded after a few minutes.

The choir sang in perfect unison. There was not one dissenting voice. Her friends, Rachel and Vanessa, were incredulous and aghast that she would even _think_ of marrying a man she had met for the first time last evening- without even a formal introduction. Normally their reason would have been that she could not possibly know a thing about him on such short acquaintance. But on this special occasion just the opposite was the case. She knew _everything_ about him- he had even confessed it all himself- and none of it was good. And _that_ was a massive understatement.

King Conner, with Edmond's concurrence, had agreed to allow the Crown Prince of Switzerland to pay a formal call at their estate during the afternoon. He could hardly have refused, though he truly wanted to, when Elsa had introduced him to Prince Hans last evening as her betrothed. Both men agreed, though, he should be allowed to proceed no father into the house than the library and see no one there but King Conner. Elsa must give him leave to inform the prince that she would not receive him, today or any other day.

"After all," King Conner growled, "you are not embroiled in any real _scandal_ , Elsa, only a great deal of silly and mindless gossip. If you are never seen with the man again and if nothing more is said about any betrothal between you, it will be concluded soon enough that there never was any truth in the story- as in the case with most dumb rumours."

"Very true, Father," Rachel said.

"And very sensible," Vanessa agreed.

"And everyone knows you as the soul of propriety, Elsa," Simon added.

Which was perhaps a bit of a mistake on his part. Being the soul of propriety sounded to Elsa like a very dull thing to be. Did she want _that_ written on her epitaph?

"Jack was a friend of mine at one time," Kyle said. "He still is, I suppose. We sparred with each other at Jeremey's this morning and then walked to White's together. But it would be extremely unwise to ally yourself to him, Elsa. He has an undeniably wicked past and you would not want a deservedly spotless reputation sullied by association with him."

 _A deservedly spotless reputation_. That would look just as good on her headstone. Future generations would yawn as they read.

"Rakes would be doomed to eternal infamy if some decent lady did not fall in love with them and take a great chance on them," Simon said, grinning at Elsa which threatened the choir's harmony for the moment. He ought to know the truth of what he said. He had once been one of Weselton's own notorious and infamous rakes when Rachel had taken a chance on him- nudged on her way, it was true, by the eruption of scandal. "However, Jack is not exactly a rake, is he? Justly or otherwise, he is seen as the blackest-hearted of villains- a dark prince. Certainly no one can deny that he did something pretty villainous five years ago- two things, actually. You would not be able to handle him, Elsa- or he you, for that matter. You have lived a righteous life and deserve much better."

"Oh, that is _exactly_ what we have all been trying to say," Rachel said, laying a hand on his white sleeve. "We want someone perfect for you, Elsa. We want you to be _happy_. You only deserve the very best life has to offer."

 _You would not be able to handle him..._

 _You have lived a righteous life..._

These were the people who loved her so tenderly, like a family, and it was obvious that they only wanted the very best for her that life had to offer. To them she was the soul of propriety, a woman with a clean, snow-white reputation who had lived a virtuous, righteous, and honourable life. They wanted someone perfect for her- someone equally proper, blameless, virtuous, righteous, honourable... A very dull man, in fact.

He sounded a little like Prince Christian. Was _that_ why she had hesitated so long about accepting his marriage offers? It seemed disloyal. He was all those things and she had always liked him. She had always considered him a friend.

 _Friend_ , not lover.

And Prince Jack had boldly called him a dull dog.

She had been horribly disconcerted by the Danish prince's announcement at the ball. But had she also been _upset_? Did she feel so heartbroken today? In the light of everything else that had occurred, she had spared him scarcely a thought.

These people wanted her to be happy. But how did they know what would make happy?

Did _she_ know?

Once upon a time she had thought happiness and Prince Hans were synonymous terms. But today he had offered her marriage again and she had refused because... Oh, there was a host of reasons.

But she realized something as her friends and family all looked at her in love and concern and waited for her to say something.

She was ripe for rebellion.

Or else she was just ridiculously stubborn as a mule.

She had such a short acquaintance with Prince Jack that she could not even recall clearly what he looked like. She knew he was very tall, well built, light-haired, but dark-complexioned, with angular features and mysterious blue eyes. She knew that her first impression of him was that he was almost ugly. She remembered too that her eyes had nevertheless been drawn to that face while they talked without being able to cast her eyes away from it. There had been an intensity there, in his eyes like a lurking storm, in the tautness of him almost morose features, that had somehow fascinated her.

 _He_ had fascinated her.

She had never held a conversation with any other man that even remotely resembled her conversation with him. His honesty had fairly taken her breath away. He had urged her to marry him in almost the same breath as he admitted to being a wife-stealer and a man who had abandoned his bride on their wedding day. And he had not pretended to any sudden infatuation for her, Elsa. He had told her exactly why he wished her to marry him. He needed a wife before two more weeks had passed.

Surely any other man in the same circumstances would have gone out of his way to charm the Queen with sweet, alluring words and lies, and to keep the truth about himself from her for as long as possible- until after their marriage if he could.

He was- _different_. She was quite certain that if she met him again in the cold light of day and listened to his marriage proposal, she would reject him in a heartbeat. Today she would see the man for the unattractive, ill-tempered villain that he was. She would see the desperation in him and be repulsed by it. What man, after all, would be prepared to marry a stranger- _any_ stranger- merely in order to keep the house and property from which he drew an income until his grandfather passed away and left him a vast fortune and throne?

And she was the random stranger he had chosen.

It was really quite insulting.

But he had fascinated her and still did. He was captivating without a doubt.

And she _was_ evidently stubborn. Her family and friends were united in urging her against even seeing the future king of Switzerland again. Hans had urged her to change her mind and marry _him_ instead. Duchess Overland had begged her to put an end to her betrothal.

The silence had become quite lengthy- and very tense.

"Prince Jack is coming here this afternoon," she said, "to speak with _me_ \- after he has spoken with Your Majesty, Conner. It would be very uncivil of me to refuse to receive him, especially when I was the one who caused all the ruckus by introducing him to Hans as my betrothed last night. It was not _he_ who said it, remember."

"You were upset," Vanessa interjected, "at seeing Hans again so unexpectedly, Elsa. It is understandable for any lady that-"

But Elsa held up a hand to stop her from continuing and silence loomed over them again. Now they were no longer addressing her simply as a friend, but to a regal Queen who still had dignity. "It is neither understandable nor excusable. It is a fact," she stated, "that I would use one gentleman merely to spite another. Which, if I am to be perfectly honest with you and myself, is exactly what I did. I will speak with the prince this afternoon. I will apologize for involving him in all of this foolish gossip when I daresay he hoped to slip quietly back into society after so many years as a castaway. What has happened was all my fault and I owe it to His Highness, Prince Jack to tell him so in person."

"It is just like you to take all the burden of blame on your own shoulders," King Conner said softly, looking troubled. "It is something you always did. Let me do something for you now in return. Allow me to send the fellow on his way. I vowed at your father's funeral that I would protect you like I would with my daughters."

"Your Majesty, I do love you, but he is not _the fellow,_ " she calmly replied, getting to her feet. "He is the Crown Prince of Switzerland, a nation we are esteemed guests of and a man who still holds status equal to our own. And I will speak with him myself."

Archduke Simon and Duke Edmond smirked and said, "Bravo, Elsa. This is exactly why we admire you."

Princess Rachel and Princess Vanessa hurried toward her to hug her and said, "Oh, Elsa, you are always so noble. But we are just afraid that you will see him to apologize to him and end up betrothing yourself to him."

"Trust me," Elsa said as they all got up.

Trust her to do _what_ , though?

Would she really be seeing Prince Jack only to express her sincere regrets over the consequences of her impulsive words at the ball? Which he had urged upon her, by the way.

Or would she be seeing him because she wanted to bring his face into focus again?

Or because she was fascinated by her memories of him?

Or because she was twenty-five years old and had just come face to face with a faithless lover from her past and with the fiancée of the man she had expected to marry herself this particular year?

Or because she had just been called righteous and the soul of propriety and a woman of spotless virtue?

"Oh, we _do_ trust you, Elsa," Rachel said, hugging her after Vanessa had stepped back. "Of course we do."

Yes, of course they did. She had always been eminently trustworthy and dependable and predictable, had she not?

And absolutely dull.

* * *

 **AN: Quick note to my readers. My updates will be much slower because my courses will be officially resuming tomorrow. Thank you for always reading and please leave a review! Cheers :)**

 **And here are a few replies back to my constant reviewers:**

 **Sowelo: Human beings are fickle beings and often tested by life. Thank you for always reviewing!**

 **Miki Fubuki: You will find out in later chapters! Thanks for always reviewing!**

 **Cookienet: Aww, thank you! Yes, good friends always sweetens your life and come to aid when you need it! Thank you for always reviewing!**

 **Sia Gomo01: Thank you very much for sending a review all the way from South Africa! I am honoured. Thank you for reviewing!**

 **Guest: Thank you very much and that will be revealed later on! Thank you for reviewing!**


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